


Something Wicked: Season Three

by TCRegan



Series: Something Wicked [3]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 51,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four intrepid hunters continue their journey, hot on the trail of the deranged magister who's been reanimating the dead and wreaking havoc on Thedas. But who is behind the evil deeds? And can they stop him before it's too late?</p>
<p>The Adventures of Hawke and Friends continues in the third and final season of this tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretty, Pretty Princess: Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back for the last part. Thank you everyone who's been reading! I really appreciate the kudos and the feedback and overall encouragement on this story and I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. This part should be posted at a much faster rate as time for editing permits.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the last chapters. Thanks again. :)

The ale flowed freely that night in the tavern. The Iron Bull as he was called bought out the entire inn, paying upfront for the rooms for his boys and Hawke's, as he deemed their group. He paid extra for the roast quail and requisitioned all the cakes in the pantry. When Hawke tried to protest the cost, Bull merely shrugged it off.

"You might want to considering taking a bath and changing first though. Then we'll talk."

So they trekked upstairs to their rooms and did as they were told with very little conversation and no argument. Freshly bathed and out of the Orlesian frippery that lay largely in tatters, they rejoined Bull and his Chargers downstairs. Four plates of food were placed down along with four large tankards of ale. Hawke began to eat with gusto, but Anders and Fenris glanced sidelong at Dorian, who was frowning at his plate.

"What, you don't like bird?" Bull asked. "They got venison I bet. Maybe pork."

"Delicate stomach," Dorian answered, sliding the plate down to Hawke. Under the table he felt Fenris touch his knee and he covered his hand with his own. "I'll find something later, but thank you. I'd much rather hear your story. You know of Alexius?"

Bull pulled out a similar looking runestone that Hawke carried, only it was square in shape and much larger. "We keep in touch if he has a job he needs done and we're in the area. We've been hunting that worm for… shit, three weeks now?" He knocked back his tankard and covered a belch with the back of his hand.

Hawke raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip.

"Barbarians, the lot of you," Dorian muttered.

Bull grinned and winked at him. Or maybe he simply blinked. It was difficult to tell with the eyepatch. "Once we found it, we got a call about some weird crap happening here in the capital. We're always happy to make a swing through Val Royeaux. Heard about some big reveal, something going on with the royals here. Decided to kill two birds with one stone. After seeing the mess in the ballroom we knew something fishy was going on."

"Gaspard." Hawke shook his head then took another swallow of ale before continuing. "It was some stupid statue he wanted to show off. Celene was the perpetrator. She killed dozens of people. Nobles loyal to Gaspard."

"With the empress and Gaspard dead, what happens to Orlais?" Anders wondered.

Bull shrugged. "Not really our problem, I'd say."

"Orlais will fall to chaos without a leader." Dorian frowned. "Did Alexius tell you to kill her?" The implications of a Tevinter magister giving the order to kill the Orlesian empress would weigh heavily on the Magisterium. Orlais might consider an Exalted March. Not that Tevinter would be cowed by the show of force, but a war between the two nations wasn't exactly what either country needed right now.

"No. But from where I was standing there wasn't much of a choice."

"Alexius will smooth it over," Hawke said confidently.

"Alexius shouldn't have to smooth it over," Dorian snapped. "You can't expect him to handle every little thing that goes wrong. This is a serious issue!"

Fenris took Dorian by the arm. "Come," he said simply, and pulled him from the table.

Hawke's glare followed them until they left the tavern. He grunted, then continued to eat without comment.

"Er. Do I even wanna ask?" Bull looked from Hawke to Anders.

Anders shook his head. "It's been a very, very long day for all of us. I think things will look better in the morning. Fenris will take care of him." He glanced back toward the door with a sympathetic look.

Bull's eye narrowed. "He's not his slave, is he?"

Hawke scowled. "No. Fenris is a free elf."

The smirk on Bull's face was reassuring. "Bad business, slavery."

"Hear, hear," Hawke said, reaching over to clank his tankard against Bull's before drinking.

"Alexius is one of the good ones," Bull continued, sitting back in his chair. "You're after that RTD guy, right? Heard rumors flying around the place that people think he's got the right idea, gaining in power and shit. Then they hear he's a Vint. Place has got such a bad rep that not even the ones trying to gain a foothold want to sign up to work for him."

"I've met more bad than good," Hawke agreed, thinking of Danarius and Hadriana and the slavers that regularly tried to set up shop in his city. "You have any leads?"

Bull shook his head. "Nah, not yet. Been tying up loose ends here and there, going on random jobs with my boys or when we get a call to take care of some giant worm monster. What was with that thing, anyway?"

"You don't want to know," Anders muttered. Though they'd first run into the creature ages ago, the memory of being tied up and threatened then chased through the desert was still fresh in his mind. From Hawke's expression, he remembered it just as vividly.

Bull caught their looks and shrugged. "Look, we're gonna stick around a day or two," he said. "Anything you want, food or drink or, y'know. Whatever. Put it on my tab."

"Yeah?" Hawke said, half-rising as Bull stood. They shook hands. "We'll be sure to say goodbye before we head off again. I'll have to report in to Alexius soon about this."

"You take care," Bull said, and shook Anders' hand as well before wading into the group sitting by the fire playing cards.

"Never met a Qunari like that," Hawke commented. "The last one tried to kill me."

"And this one saved your life," Anders said. He leaned gently against Hawke's shoulder. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

"That eager to get me to bed?"

Anders sighed. "No. I'm exhausted."

"Right, right." Hawke looked at the door to the inn, frowning. "Maybe I should check on them."

"Or maybe not," Anders said, and pulled Hawke to his feet, dragging him upstairs. He didn't speak again until the door was shut. "Fenris is going to be fine with Dorian."

"What?" Hawke asked innocently, trying to pretend that wasn't the issue.

"I know jealousy." Anders pulled him close, fingers gripping the fabric of his tunic. "Fenris will always favor you. The bond you have isn't going to break simply because he chooses a lover."

Hawke made a disgusted face. "Does it have to be _Dorian_?"

Anders chuckled softly. "Yes. They've chosen one another. And we had this conversation already." He leaned in and brushed his lips to Hawke's.

Hawke took him around the waist, holding him close. "We did?"

"You were very, very drunk. I told you that you wouldn't remember." Anders kissed him again, reaching up to cup his face. "I love you. And Fenris loves you. Neither of us will leave your side."

"Ever?" Hawke asked, searching for reassurance. "Even after RTD is dead and buried?"

"Hawke, I…" Anders sighed and rested his forehead against Hawke's shoulder. He felt Hawke's hand, large and warm and comforting at the back of his neck. Lips pressed against the top of his head.

"I love you," Hawke said. "No matter where we might end up. Even if you go back to work in your clinic instead of staying with me."

Anders looked up at him, saw the sadness in Hawke's deep green eyes, and kissed him. His arms wrapped around Hawke's neck and they fell into bed together, seeking reassurance and comfort.

-

Somehow Fenris's fingers ended up entwined with his and despite the anger Dorian felt moments before, the frustration ebbed. The darkness calmed him, the sliver of a waxing moon making him feel more energized than he had any right to. Fenris squeezed his hand and they meandered down a path toward the alley between the inn and another building. Val Royeaux, Dorian noted, was at least clean. Fenris pressed him against the stone wall, holding him at arm's length, fingers kneading one of his shoulders, while the other still held his hand.

"He frustrates me," Dorian said, by way of a very weak apology.

"You should not let him get to you."

"He's jealous."

Fenris scoffed. "He's not-"

"He is," Dorian pressed. "Just as you were. Remember?" He reached up with his free hand, brushing Fenris's bangs out of his eyes. "He's afraid of losing you. And I can't say I blame him. You're rather extraordinary."

"Because of the wolf-"

"No," Dorian cut him off. "I know I've said this before but I was never very good at friendship. At any kind of relationship that involved effort. Felix made things easy for me and we became fast friends, but it was a situation of circumstance that brought us together. I was Alexius's apprentice."

"Apprentices do not traditionally have to get along with their mentor's children," Fenris noted.

"No, I suppose not," Dorian agreed. "However, that doesn't mean that this arrangement is any less odd to me. I'm used to sitting around with Alexius, discussing politics and magical theory. Not running off on adventures and fighting with…"

Fenris raised an eyebrow.

"Friends," Dorian finished. "And this…" He let his fingertips slide from Fenris's forehead, down his cheek to crook a finger under his chin. "We never talked about it. We said we would in Denerim. Fenris, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Nor I," Fenris admitted. "It's been… years since I've… But I'd like to."

"To what?"

Fenris exhaled, blowing air through his bangs, and they fell back into his eyes. "What Hawke and Anders have, perhaps."

"It's just not something I ever hoped for," Dorian said, leaning in.

Fenris met him halfway, leaning up to kiss him. It was slow and sweet and when it ended, he found himself reflected in dark grey eyes. "That makes two of us."

"I suppose it does," Dorian whispered against his lips. "I'd like to try it. To see how long this can last."

"You'll get tired of the life," Fenris suggested. "Traveling from country to country with us."

"It's been exciting so far," Dorian noted. "Though hopefully the next adventure doesn't involve blood-crazed empresses and cannibalistic chefs."

"It might be worse."

"Maker, I hope not," Dorian chuckled. He kissed Fenris again, letting out a surprised, 'oomph!' as Fenris shoved him back against the wall and returned the kiss fervently.

"Let's return to our room," Fenris whispered, trailing kisses up his jawline. "You can feed, then we'll rest."

"That is quite possibly the best idea you've ever had," Dorian agreed.

-

The next morning they said their farewells to Iron Bull before setting off on the road once more. Hawke contacted Alexius, who was relieved to see they were all right. Hawke informed him about what happened at the palace, even handed the runestone to Dorian so he could tell the tale of the giant butcher and Anders' quick thinking with the explosive concoction. Alexius assured them he would send an anonymous missive to the Orlesian Chantry to get everything sorted out and suggested they leave the country with haste. He promised that he would contact them soon with more information, as he was following up leads on RTD.

"A few days to ourselves?" Dorian laughed. "Whatever shall we do?"

"I have some things in mind," Hawke said, trying to remain cordial. "They all involve getting out of this Maker-forsaken country first though."

"That is one thing on which you and I can wholeheartedly agree."

Hawke pursed his lips, then nodded, which Dorian returned. A silent agreement. Fenris and Anders exchanged their own looks, relieved that the animosity had passed. For now, at least. They headed straight for the docks and Hawke was about to ask as to what their next destination should be when a dwarf ran up to them, envelope in hand.

"Anders?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

The other three looked at Anders who wore an expression of surprise. "Er, yes?"

"This is for you. From Karl in Kirkwall. Been searching all Val Royeaux for you. You're a hard man to find."

Anders took the letter quickly and opened it. Hawke thanked the dwarf, giving him a couple of coins for his trouble.

"What is it?" Hawke asked.

Anders frowned, mouth pursed, looking pained. "Karl says the templars are planning something. He's not sure what, but there are whispers all over the Gallows. I have to go to Kirkwall."

"Then we take a holiday in Kirkwall," Hawke said at once.

"What?" Anders asked, looking up. "Hawke, I can go on my own if you have-"

Hawke shut him down with a look. "We have a few days until Alexius gets back to us. Our next stop is likely somewhere in Tevinter. Kirkwall is on the way to Tevinter."

"It's not," Fenris noted. "You would realize this if you looked at a map."

"Why would I do that? I have your nose to take care of directions for me," Hawke said, tapping Fenris on the nose before he could pull away. "Besides, it's been ages since I've seen Bethany. Carver might have checked in, too. We could sleep in our own beds for once, Fenris."

"I say we all go," Dorian added. "I'm not just saying this to agree with Hawke, either."

"Maker forbid that ever happen," Hawke said jovially. He did smile at Dorian, however.

Dorian nodded. "I think the three of you, hailing from the city, could use a dose of familiarity. Then when we're done looking into issue, we can head to Tevinter to check in personally with Alexius. By then he might have figured out where we can find this RTD and put a stop to him."

Anders shifted guiltily. "If it's not too much to ask."

Dorian clapped him on the shoulder. "Maker, you're even worse at this friendship thing that I am. Accept the help, man!"

"All right then," Anders said. "Thank you."

Hawke grinned, looking at Fenris. "Ready to go home?"

Fenris couldn't help but return the smile, and nodded.


	2. Pretty, Pretty Princess: Act 2

"Maker, it is good to be home," Anders said, unlocking the clinic door to let them in. He lit the lanterns, looking around. 

It was odd to call the clinic 'home' but it was where he'd felt the safest since he was a little boy. Since before he was taken to live in the Circle. The air felt familiar and he breathed in the scent of elfroot and antiseptic. It was cleaner than he'd left it and he felt a surge of pride and gratefulness to Karl who had kept things in top shape. A sort of elated swirling in his chest made him chuckle a little. It seemed that Justice was pleased to be home as well.

"Ah memories," Hawke said, stepping inside and looking around. "Hey, Fenris, do you remember?"

Fenris scowled. "Waking up here after we were nearly killed? Yes."

"Is that how you all met?" Dorian asked, poking around the shelves. "Ooh, an advanced guide to alchemy, first edition from the Imperium. How did you get this?" He pulled the book from the shelf and began thumbing through it.

Anders knew he should have protested the intrusion of privacy but he was too relieved to be back in familiar territory, even if the message he received was a bit grave. "Donations from a former… Ah, well. I stole it. From Danarius."

Dorian wrinkled his nose. "Abhorrent man. It's put to much better use in your hands," he said, gesturing with it toward Anders before replacing it on the shelf. "When do we see the infamous Hawke estate?"

Hawke looked at Anders. "When are you supposed to be meeting Karl?"

Anders shrugged. "I couldn't say. He might be teaching a class now, or-"

The door opened and Karl stepped in, looking haggard. "Anders! Lirene's boy said he saw you come in the west gate."

Anders crossed the room unconsciously, hugging Karl at once. Though he'd broken off their affair after what happened with Danarius and Justice, he still loved Karl very much. He was his friend, mentor, and first love. Despite what he felt for Hawke, the affectionate feelings he held for Karl wouldn't wane. Though Karl didn't know about Justice, _couldn't_ know about Justice. 

Anders pulled back, gesturing. "You remember Hawke and Fenris," he said. "And this is our friend Dorian."

Dorian gave a nod and a half-wave, while Fenris merely shrugged. Hawke, however, was trying very hard to force a smile, though it was obvious he was jealous of the easy, loving reunion.

"What's happening?" Anders asked, pulling him into the clinic. He shut the door and leaned against it. "I got your letter."

"Just in time, it seems," Karl said. "Meredith's decided to host a masquerade ball for mages and templars and quite a few of the nobles."

"What? Why?" Anders asked.

"It does seem a bit of a volatile mix," Dorian added. "All things considered."

"Something regarding donations for the Chantry," Karl explained. "The nobles will see that the mages aren't to be feared, that the templars will ensure their safety. And to make them feel good about themselves, the extra food will be sent to Lowtown to feed the poor."

"I'm sure they'll love feasting on the nobles' scraps," Hawke growled. "There's got to be more to it."

"That was our thinking," Karl said, nodding gratefully at Hawke before turning to Anders. "What do you think?"

"Selby and Lirene are with you on this?" Anders asked. "It's a trap, it must be. Meredith wouldn't throw a party to celebrate mages. Not unless the grand cleric ordered her to, and even then she's an opportunistic vulture."

"Are you sure?" Fenris asked. He dropped his gaze when the others looked at him.

"What do you mean?" Hawke pressed. "You think it something else? That maybe Meredith suddenly woke up and decided she liked mages? That the Circles were bad ideas?"

Fenris scowled. "No, but she might not have an ulterior motive."

"I don't know your Knight-Commander Meredith," Dorian added. "But money is a good motivator as any. They could be doing this solely for the donations and any good publicity they may gain from it."

"Possible," Karl said, "but I don't believe so. You'll be in attendance?" he asked Anders. "It's tonight."

"Then we don't have much time." Anders looked at Hawke. "Do you think we can purchase costumes in time?"

Hawke grinned. "I know just the place!"

Fenris groaned. "No, Hawke."

"Yes, Hawke!" Hawke exclaimed. "Off we go!"

Karl watched Hawke grab Fenris by the arm and pull him from the room. "I'll stay here. Selby, Lirene and I will form a base of operations in case you need a haven outside of Hightown."

Anders clasped him on the arm. "Keep safe. I'll be around after the party. Then we can catch up."

"I can't wait to hear all about where you've been," Karl said with a warm smile.

Dorian trailed Anders from the clinic. "So are you going to tell him about Hawke?"

Anders blushed, waving back to Hawke who urged them on, pulling Fenris further down the street. "Perhaps."

"How lucky you are to have two handsome men vying for your attention."

"It's not like that with Karl," Anders explained. "Not anymore. He's just a very dear friend now."

"Now," Dorian repeated lightly.

"Circumstances… things change," Anders sighed. "With Justice, everything changed. Hawke found out at once and he didn't look at me differently. He accepted it. Even after Justice emerged on the ship, Hawke stayed with me through the night."

"People in love do stupid things," Dorian agreed, teasing him. "Karl doesn't know."

"No. And he can't. Ever."

"I know what it's like."

Anders looked at him. "What?"

Dorian smiled sadly. "What if feels like to have people look at you because you're different. Even before this," he said, gesturing vaguely at his mouth, inferring the fangs that lay dormant. "But especially after. I'll keep your secret of course. It's not mine to tell. Though you may want to consider telling Karl. I don't believe it would change his opinion of you."

Anders frowned. "Maybe not. I'm not prepared to take that chance."

"I understand _that_ , too," Dorian said. He reached out and touched Anders on the shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Come. Let's see what's got your lover excited and mine dreading."

-

"I still can't believe that place," Dorian said, looking himself over in the mirror. "The Black Emporium. Who knew such an odd curios shop existed in a place like Kirkwall? And that it sold costumes."

They were in Hawke's estate, finishing the touches on their costumes. Upon arriving home, Hawke embraced Bethany in a bear hug that nearly crushed her ribs. She laughed and embraced Fenris easily, then Anders and Dorian in turn after they were introduced. Hawke explained the masquerade, told her under no certain circumstances was she to try to join, and after a late lunch gave them a tour of the house.

"I cannot believe that's your choice," Fenris muttered.

Dorian turned sideways to examine the costume. He wore a floor length loin cloth in the deepest red, silver boots, silver shoulder pads, and a fake breastplate the covered his sternum, but left most of his chest and stomach exposed. On the breastplate which was made out of linen stuffed with cotton was the templar insignia.

"It's ironic," he insisted. "Besides, how could I pass up the slutty templar look?" He tied off his mask which was fashioned to look like a templar helmet faceplate. "Much better than the Orlesian ones."

"It does suit you," Hawke said, pulling on his court jester hat, complete with gold jingling bells. The red and green stripes of his outfit clashed rather than complemented, all the way down to his pointed, curled-tip shoes. His own mask was an extension of the hat, red and green in a diamond pattern. "At least you're getting into the spirit of it," he added, looking pointedly at Fenris and Anders.

Fenris wore a simple wolf's mask and at Dorian's insistence, a tail as well. "This is more humiliating than Orlais."

"You were a manservant in Orlais," Hawke reminded him.

"This is still more humiliating."

"It could be worse," Anders said, allowing Dorian to add whiskers to his face with kohl. He tied his half-mask, which was that of a tiger, and added a headband that had stripy cat ears.

"How?" Fenris asked, thrusting the tiger's tail at Anders.

Anders smirked and attached it to his belt, swiveling his hips to make it sway. "It could be hosted by an insane Orlesian empress who wants to kill everyone in the room."

"You don't think Meredith's insane?" Hawke asked, waving them out of the room.

"No," Anders said. "That's why she's so dangerous. She's smart. She knows how to control people. She's very good at getting what she wants."

"She should've met my mother when she was still alive," Dorian said airily. "They do sound like birds of a feather."

"Let's hope nothing exciting happens and everything goes just as planned. If we're luck-" Hawke started.

"Don't!" Dorian said, holding up a finger. "Don't." He shook his head. "Not after Orlais."

Hawke sighed. "Fine, fine."

"Perhaps you shouldn't drink, either," Fenris said. "We wouldn't want a repeat of the no-pants incident."

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that," Bethany said, coming in from the library. "You all look perfect!" She reached out and tugged delicately at Fenris's tail.

"We're not talking about it," Hawke said. "Ever."

"Oh, that's a shame," she lamented. "It's such a good story, even if it did end in the Waking Sea getting set aflame."

"That wasn't my fault!" Hawke shot back. "You're supposed to be on my side. You're my flesh and blood!"

Bethany laughed and hugged him, moving aside his mask to kiss his cheek. "Good luck tonight, Garrett. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

"He will," Fenris groused. "He always does."

"Then it's your job to keep him safe," Bethany said, poking him in the forehead, grinning. She looked at Anders, then to Dorian. "You keep safe, too. It's not the best place for mages."

"Rest assured, my lady, we will be well-protected," Dorian said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Stop, before I fall in love," Bethany joked, and ushered them out the door. "If you stick around until next week, Carver's supposed to be coming back."

"We'll be gone by then," Hawke said. "But tell him to check in a little more frequently. He's going to end up hurting himself."

"Or pantsless," Dorian suggested.

"Shush," Hawke ordered. "I was just starting to like you." He kissed Bethany on the forehead, capturing her in a final one-armed hug. "Don't wait up for us but do have breakfast prepared, all right?"

"Oh yes, Messere Hawke," she said with a sarcastic bow. She bade them all goodnight and shut the door.

"Your sister is utterly delightful," Dorian said, taking Fenris's arm.

"She got all the charm out of the three of us," Hawke agreed. "It's a shame we can't stay longer."

"We'll stop the magister," Fenris said. "Then we can rest."

"No rest for the wicked." Hawke shrugged, nudging Anders. "All right?"

Anders nodded, though he was frowning. "Thinking about what's to come."

"Well, we're about to find out," Hawke said, watching several dozen people in masks ascend the steps to the Viscount's Keep. He took Anders by the hand and held tightly. "No matter what happens, we're a team. We have each other's' backs."

"Yay team," Dorian said, a bit flatly.

"You know," Hawke said thoughtfully. "Slutty Templar Dorian. Your initials tonight are STD. Kind of fitting. Don't worry, Fenris, Anders can get you a salve for whatever happens." He pulled Anders ahead quickly.

Fenris hid a laugh behind an unconvincing cough. "Apologies," he said when Dorian gave him a disbelieving look. "It is rather funny."

"Only to uncultured brutes," Dorian sniffed.

Fenris patted his hand somewhat patronizingly and led Dorian, bruised ego and all, up the stairs and into the keep.


	3. Pretty, Pretty Princess: Act 3

"Knight-Commander, so good to see you," Hawke lied easily. She wore a dark red dress and tiara, and it was strange seeing her out of her templar armor. Her mask was the same color as her dress, offsetting her golden curls. They shook hands. "It's been some time."

"We knew you couldn't stay away from Kirkwall," Meredith said, sounding as if she wished he would consider it. "I see you've brought friends."

"You already know Fenris," Hawke said. "My lover Anders and our good friend Dorian."

Meredith did not offer her hand to shake, eyeing them coolly, stopping on Anders. "Ah yes. The apost-" She gritted her teeth. "Harrowed mage who runs the clinic. I've heard a lot of interesting things about you."

"A shame you've never heard of me," Dorian cut in, interrupting Anders before he could say something, possibly insult Meredith or maybe throw a fireball. "But I don't suppose you hear much about Tevinter."

Meredith's lips tightened into a frown. "I don't suppose I do." She gave his outfit a disdainful look. "Enjoy the festivities," she said curtly and walked away.

"Delightful woman," Dorian commented. "It's no wonder so many people love her."

Hawke snorted. "That was downright pleasant for Meredith. Come on. Let's see who else is here."

Anders recognized First Enchanter Orsino wearing an outfit of mottled grey and white, his mask looking like a darkspawn ogre, huge horns twisting upward. A few templars deigned to go for classic storybook characters and nobles who wore boring, dull costumes with rather generic looking masks.

"Well, it's definitely not Orlais," Dorian pointed out. "Their fashion even when it's not a masquerade is a thousand times wilder than this lot. Not to mention the food."

"You can't eat it anyway," Hawke said.

"That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be offended by a substandard spread," Dorian insisted. "Look at it. There isn't even a decent dessert section. I might indulge if there was."

"Then you'd get sick," Fenris pointed out. "You'd have to leave early."

"Wouldn't that just be a shame?" Dorian sighed, then yawned, bored.

Anders stopped, Hawke bumping into him. "What is it?" Hawke asked, concerned. Anders had been rather quiet all night.

"That… bitch," Anders hissed, fists clenched.

They looked up to follow his gaze. Grand Cleric Elthina was dressed as a beggar, speaking to a young Rivaini mage who looked nervous even beneath his mask fashioned to look like a mouse. Elthina had an empty box with a sign that said, "Maker Help Those Who Can't Help Themselves." She was dressed in rags, her mask painted to appear as if her face was smudged with dirt.

"Easy," Hawke soothed, pushing Anders back.

Fenris shook his head. "Tactless."

"I feel I'm missing something," Dorian said, following them into another room of the keep. The music was slightly softer here, the lighting a bit dimmer, and several couples were dancing.

Hawke handed Anders a glass of champagne. "Grand Cleric Elthina. The supposed real power of Kirkwall. She says jump and Meredith actually asks 'How high?'. Though she probably curses Elthina's name while she does so."

"A grand cleric dressing up as a peasant beggar," Dorian mused. "Yes, I can see how that would be extremely distasteful."

"She hates mages," Anders ground out between sips of champagne, which did little to calm his anger. He closed his eyes, pushing back against the waves of fury, unsure how much was him and how much was Justice. "She has the ability to do something. To ensure that mages are Harrowed when it's the proper time. To look into the cases of those made Tranquil and help the ones that want to leave the Circle when they can. She just-"

Fenris grabbed his wrist painfully, not apologizing when Anders let out a startled yelp, drawing the stares of a few nobles. He took the champagne glass and handed it to Hawke. "Control yourself, mage. This is not the place."

Anders took a few deep breaths and nodded. "You're right. I just… I wish I knew what was going on."

"Dorian and I will continue to mingle and eavesdrop. We're better equipped," Fenris said. "Hawke, dance with him."

"Er, what?" Hawke asked, confused.

Fenris pulled Anders toward Hawke, giving him Anders' hand. "Dance. With. Him. It will calm him down. We'll find you in twenty minutes." To Dorian, he said, "We've a job to do," and left.

Dorian, bewildered but pleased to be of use, grinned at both Anders and Hawke before following Fenris out.

Hawke laughed, feeling slightly awkward. "Uh, well. May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing slightly, offering Anders his arm.

Anders shook head in disbelief, but took his arm. "Sometimes I think he likes me."

"Oh don't let that fool you," Hawke said, leading him onto the dance floor. "Fenris hates everyone."

Anders chuckled. "Clearly."

-

In the antechamber of the Viscount's office a young mage fretted, looking over the chalk outline in the floor. He consulted his book once, then again to make sure everything was just so. The candles were lit and the spell was ready. He just needed to perform the incantation and cement the words and that would be the end of it. Checking the book one last time, he put it aside and held his hands out, starting a slow chant an in ancient tongue.

"Here you are."

Alain jumped. The door opened and in slipped Ser Karras, his snake's mask glittering green and black in the candlelight. Alain's voice caught in his throat. "Please, ser," he said, his voice quavering. 

Out of all the templars in Kirkwall, he hated Karras the most. Since Ser Alrik had gone missing some months before – murdered they said, by a wild animal though he couldn't believe it – Karras had decided he should step into Alrik's shoes. He was just as slimy, though he seemed to leave the Tranquil alone. No, Karras enjoyed abusing the apprentices. And Alain, who was not yet Harrowed, was one of Karras's favorites.

"Practicing illegal magic out of bounds. We should've known better than to allow you out of your room, Alain."

"The knight-commander asked me to!" Alain said, though he knew it was useless. "I just need to finish." The chalk outline was starting to smoke. There were only a few precious seconds left for him to complete the spell.

"Such a bold lie," Karras said, shoving him back against the wall, one strong handing pinning him there. "I can think of a better use for that mouth. Do it, and I'll let this transgression slide. Don't, and I'll see you made Tranquil. Too weak to pass your Harrowing."

Alain, shaking, glanced past Karras to the floor. The candles began to shake, the flames burning down in a second, until they were just stubs of wax. "Oh no," he moaned. "It's too late."

"Too late for what?" Karras hissed. Then he hissed again, his tongue flicking out of his mouth. His eyes widened in surprised, then narrowed into beady black slits. His entire body changed, shifting inside his armor, arms and legs disappearing.

Alain watched in horror as Karras morphed slowly, but then he too started to change. His sense of smell became sharper as the room grew larger and he let out a surprised squeak before racing for a hole in the wall and safety away from the slithering snake eager to eat him.

-

"It's not so bad," Hawke said, turning Anders around the dance floor. "I could see us doing this regularly. Dancing in my parlor before bed." He smiled.

Anders blushed, reaching up to flick one of the jingling bells on Hawke's hat. "You'd grow bored."

"Of domestic life? Not if I had you to come home to every night." Despite being in a room full of nobles, Hawke kissed him. "I love you. That's all that matt- Anders?"

Anders pulled back, doubling in pain. All around the room, people were jerking oddly as a change overtook them. Hawke couldn't see what the problem was. In fact, it reminded him of a joke.

"How many nobles does it take to change a carriage wheel?" he asked the room at large. No one answered. It was disappointing. Instead, he pulled cutlery from the table and started to juggle. "I once knew a woman from Kirkwall. Whose face was the fairest of all. She declined every man, rejected each hand, and – AH!! TIGER!"

The large, hulking cat stretched, looked around, and roared, clearing the room at once.

-

Fenris crouched atop a ledge having found refuge there once the odd magic started overtaking the party guests. If he'd had any doubts before that Meredith was up to something they were erased at once as he watched the strange behavior. There were princes trying to chase after princesses, animals of varying sizes and shapes, and in the middle of it all was Meredith, looking like a queen on her throne as she sat, surveying her subjects. Fenris was about to leap down to confront her when Hawke barreled out of the next room followed by two dozen more guests. He felt hopeful for a moment but realized Hawke had started a juggling routine and was trying to impress Meredith with his antics. He then executed a perfect backflip, a move Fenris knew he wouldn't have been able to pull off in a million years. He heard the scream of a large cat from the next room and slowly began putting pieces together.

Whatever magic it was, it was causing the guests to act like their costumes. He was suddenly very glad that he lost sight of Dorian once the fracas began. Another part of him, however, wanted to find him in order to keep him safe. _Focus_ , he berated himself. Spells were not his forte. That was for Hawke to figure out. Or the mage who, judging by the sounds coming from the other room, had transformed into a large tiger. He watched Elthina approach everyone in turn, begging for coin and then, suddenly, from the corner of the room, a huge, hulking darkspawn ogre straightened.

"Venhedis," he swore, slinking back further into the shadows.

The ogre ran straight for the doors of the keep, slammed into them once, then again, and barreled out into Hightown, many others following. Fenris frowned, removed his mask and the stupid tail and looked at them, contemplating. It made no sense. Why would Meredith create a spell that affected her as well? Unless something went wrong. Or it wasn't her. And further, why hadn't he changed?

"You _are_ a wolf," he whispered. "Redundant magic."

It was a strained explanation but one that made as much sense as any. In this situation he would follow Hawke's lead, perhaps they would contact Alexius. He was on his own for now, though. Or was he? He could go to Bethany. Hawke would not thank him for putting her in danger though, even if she might have answers.

"Karl."

The name came to him easily, as if that was his plan from the start. The man seemed capable. He was a Harrowed mage who was a teacher. He suspected from the beginning that something was off. Would he be prepared for something like this? There was only one way to fight out. Leaping down from his hiding spot, Fenris transformed into the wolf, landing on all fours on the red runner carpet and raced out of the keep toward Lowtown.


	4. You Gotta Fight...: Act 1

Hightown was in chaos. The party goers milled out into the streets, trying to avoid the overlarge darkspawn ogre which smashed its way into the merchant's quarter, tearing open crates and tossing carts every which way. Hawke had Meredith firmly by the hand, three templars dressed as princes surrounding her, trying to court the princess. Fenris heard the scream of the cat once more, the largest animal other than himself, and currently the most dangerous.

"I'll save you, my lady!" Hawke shouted, brandishing a fork.

The tiger pounced from the steps, scattering a dozen of the party goers. Meredith let out a shocked cry and fainted dead. Hawke, bell hat jingling, took one look at the tiger and ran. He was a court jester, but it seemed he was no fool. Fenris was grateful for that. With at least Anders and Hawke accounted for and hoping Dorian was staying out of trouble, he raced for Lowtown, sticking to the shadows. The city guard was out in force and Fenris saw templars who hadn't been at the party. He hoped they wouldn't try anything stupid but he realized in a situation like this, lives were likely going to be lost.

He transformed when he saw the door of the clinic and pushed it open, out of breath. "Karl!" he panted.

Karl, who'd been reading by candlelight in the otherwise empty clinic, got to his feet at once. "What's happened?"

Fenris was grateful for the man's immediate concern. "A spell or curse. Everyone who was wearing a mask changed into them."

Karl looked completely bewildered. "What?"

The gratitude passed and Fenris wanted to shout at him for his ignorance. "Everyone – every mage, templar, and noble has become what their masks were. Storybook characters, animals, everything. I did not because…" He swore, transformed into the wolf, and transformed back just as quickly. He hated demonstrating to anyone. It was a private thing to him, something that Danarius forced him to show off and something he could choose to use when it was necessary. But the matter was urgent and he had no time to explain. "We need to find a way to reverse the spell."

Karl was wide-eyed in shock. "Of course. I've simply never heard of such a-"

"Here you are," said a familiar voice in the doorway.

Fenris turned. Dorian was leaning against the door, smirking. His arms were crossed and he leveled his gaze directly at Fenris.

"Oh my," Karl said. "Your friend Dorian was a-"

"Templar," Fenris ground out.

"Indeed I am," Dorian said. "And you two are out of bounds, I believe. I'll have to drag you back to the Circle myself. That is… unless you'd like to work out a deal." He stepped up to Fenris who flinched a little as Dorian reached up, cupping his chin. "How about…." He dragged his free hand down Fenris's chest and cupped his cock brazenly through his trousers, squeezing. "You let me have the pleasure of finally tasting this?"

Fenris blushed, the heat burning in his cheeks to the tips of his ears. While they'd had several very pleasant sessions of kissing and holding one another, the pleasure of Dorian's bite and a bit of over-the-clothing touching, he hadn't felt ready to move forward yet. He knew this wasn't actually Dorian, that the spell was controlling him. Dorian was shoved back by a quick spell, landing hard on the floor. Fenris whirled on Karl, about to berate him.

"We haven't much time," Karl said by way of apologizing. He waved his hand, a greenish mist falling over Dorian which put him to sleep. "That will last roughly an hour. Come. The Circle's library will have a solution to this."

Leaving Dorian unconscious on the floor of the clinic felt like a bad omen but they had little choice. Fenris followed Karl out into Lowtown, hoping he could trust this man to take care of the issue. Trust was a strange thing, he decided. He _did_ trust Anders to a point, and Anders trusted Karl. He was a teacher, so he should be smart enough to know which spell could cause such a strange reaction.

"Was it Meredith?" Karl asked as they hurried through the throngs of people.

It seemed the commotion in Hightown had started to leak down here. Fenris caught sight of Grand Cleric Elthina begging for alms on the corner, clutching at other Lowtown residents who pulled away in disgust. Others laughed, and one even spat on her.

"Fenris!"

He turned, reaching for his sword that wasn't there. It was back with Hawke, still concealed in his staff, which was likely still in the Viscount's keep. Thankfully he didn't need it, Aveline rushing up to him, not a threat.

"Just what exactly is going on? There are-"

"No time to explain," Fenris said quickly.

"The Void there isn't!" she snapped back. "This has something to do with Hawke, doesn't it?"

Fenris clenched his fists, immediately defensive of his friend. "We don't know what's going on _exactly_. It wasn't Hawke! Just keep everyone safe and watch the darkspawn ogre in the merchant's square!"

Before she could say anything else, Fenris gestured to Karl and they hurried off toward the stairs that took them to the docks. The ferryman who usually manned the little boat was gone, but Fenris took up a paddle while Karl worked the sails and rudder. They crossed the sea quickly and docked, tied off the boat along the others and ran almost headfirst into a templar.

"What in the Maker's name – Enchanter Thekla?" He looked startled to see Karl there, glancing between him and Fenris.

"Thrask, there's no time," Karl said. "The knight-commander's party has been cursed by an odd spell. We need the Circle's library to figure out the counter-curse before the city is razed."

Thrask took one look at Karl's anxious expression, nodded, and asked no more questions. "I'll take you."

Fenris followed the two further into the Gallows than he'd ever been before. He shuddered at the visuals of the old slave prison, the screaming slave statues, their masters standing over them with whips. He kept his eyes downcast, not wanting to see them. Thrask unlocked the library, letting them in. Karl lit the lamps with a wave of his hand and jogged up a large spiral staircase.

"Do you need any assistance?" Thrask asked.

"Assemble whoever you can," Karl called down. "The city guard's going to need all the help they can get."

Thrask looked at Fenris. "You're Hawke's-"

"Yes."

"Is he all right?"

Fenris's scowl was born from nerves and worry. He held no hatred for this templar. "Last I saw."

"He's a good man." Then, to Karl, he said, "I'll take the ones I can spare across the sea. Good luck."

Fenris watched him leave then pulled himself up the stairs to where Karl was standing over a table covered in books. He held a ball of blue flame in his palm, fingers of his free hand passing over the text. Fenris could see his lips moving, then a frown, then a page turn.

"What can I do?"

"Transmogrification," Karl said. "This entire section. Discount anything that speaks of single-target use."

Fenris, who had learned to read under the care tutelage of Hawke and occasionally Bethany, hadn't read anything so complicated as books on magic. He took one at random and flipped, the tiny text nearly impossible for him to see.

Karl looked up, confused for a moment at Fenris's frustration, then quickly put it together. "Go find a man called Solivitus. He should be in the common room. Down the hall, to the left."

Armed with an order he could actually execute, Fenris hurried in the direction of the common room. Several mages were there talking in small groups, one of which was playing some kind of game with paper, pens, and dice. Two templars leaning against a far wall looked up when he entered.

"Enchanter Thekla has need of Solivitus," Fenris said, too anxious about what was potentially happening in Hightown to care what they thought of him.

An older man, balding, slightly round in the middle, stood from where he was seated, reading a book. "What is it?"

"I'll explain on the way."

Solivitus thankfully took him at his word and followed him down the hall. 

"At the masquerade there was a curse that turned everyone into whatever masks they were wearing," Fenris explained for what felt like the hundredth time. "Presently, several dozen guests are wreaking havoc in Hightown."

Solivitus let out an amused snort. "I'm sure that's a sight. All right. Karl!" he shouted once they gained the library.

"Up here, Sol."

"Transmogrification spell?"

"Seems that way, but I'm not seeing a single thing that would affect so large a group at once."

"Could've been in the wine?" Solivitus suggested, conjuring three green wisps for added light. He started flipping through the other books Karl brought down.

Karl shook his head. "No, whoever cast it wouldn't have been able to depend on everyone having the same drink."

"Complicated to cast that kind of a spell to affect so many. Blood?"

"I'd hate to think you're right, my friend."

Fenris bristled at the idea. After the debacle in Val Royeaux, he'd had quite enough exposure to blood and blood magic to last him a lifetime.

"Was it Meredith?" Solivitus asked, lowering his voice, though they were the only ones in the room.

"She was caught up in it as well," Fenris said. "Though many think she's behind it."

Solivitus clucked his tongue. "Not sure what she would have to gain, but I wouldn't rule her out. Ah, here, Karl." He slid the book around and crooked a finger at one of the wisps. It floated close to the page as they bent over it.

"This could be it," Karl mused, scratching lightly at his beard. "To perform the counter we would need to gather everyone in one place…"

"Hightown," Fenris said. "Most of them are still there, but we'll need help rounding them up."

Solivitus shook his head. "I'm on supervisory duty this evening. I don't get my leave until next week."

"That's no matter," Karl said, taking the book, clapping Solivitus on the shoulder. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Don't die," Solivitus said, though the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, and it was clear he was teasing. "I should hate to lose such a formidable chess partner."

They said their farewells and Fenris followed Karl out of the Gallows and down to a ferry.

"Will this work?" Fenris asked.

Karl untied the boat and dropped the sails. "There's only one way to find out."


	5. You Gotta Fight...: Act 2

Aveline was not happy to see either of them when they found her corralling a few of the cursed party goers. Her sword in hand, she seemed ready to use it on them but Karl remained calm despite her anger.

"We need everyone in one place to reverse the spell," Karl explained, tapping the cover of the book to emphasize his point. "Can you and your men get them to Hightown?"

"First tell me what's going on," she insisted, looking from Karl to Fenris.

"A curse." There wasn't time to explain it in detail and Fenris was growing impatient. "There will be time after for the details. Can you or can you not assist us?"

She huffed, red-faced, but turned on her heel and began giving orders to her men. On their way back to the clinic, they saw Elthina yet again, kneeling and sobbing, arms raised to the sky as she begged the Maker for help.

"... I have half a mind to leave her there," Karl said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound like Anders."

Karl smiled, and it wasn't nearly as warm as it could've been. "You mean he sounds like me. Where do you think he got his rebellious spirit from, after all?" He sighed and knelt in front of Elthina. "There's coin for you in Hightown. Speak with the guard captain. She's giving away silver!"

"Silver?" Elthina sniffed. "I could buy a new pair of shoes with that money!" She got to her feet. "Oh thank you, serah!" She shook his hand in both of hers and then hurried off.

"I have no words."

Fenris felt the vitriol behind his statement. "No wonder you get along so well with Anders." But there wasn't time to muse further on the oddity of meeting another mage with the same mindset as Anders.

Lowtown was almost deserted as they wound the streets, everyone either inside on Aveline's orders or heading up to Hightown. When they reached the clinic, Fenris was relieved that Dorian was still there, just waking up. 

Groggy, Dorian shook his head as Fenris pulled him to his feet. "To what do I owe the pleasure of… oh it's the handsome magical elf and his mage friend," he purred, leaning in.

Fenris knocked his hand away. "There are a dozen mages in Hightown right now all behaving very badly. They need a spanking." Then he sighed and closed his eyes, pained at the words that just left his lips.

"Indeed?" Dorian asked, intrigued by this development. "Well, we definitely have to punish those naughty mages."

If they got out of this, Fenris decided he was never going to speak of it again. He wasn't sure if he could endure the embarrassment and thought that Dorian would thank him not to mention it either. They hurried toward Hightown, Fenris batting Dorian's hands away when the mage-turned-templar grabbed his ass on the way up the steps.

"Andraste's knickers," Karl breathed. "What a mess."

Hightown was in fact a mess. The guards shouted at citizens who weren't involved, ordering them to return to their homes. Many nobles and interested Lowtown residents braved the streets to see what the commotion was, and the guards and templars had a difficult time keeping them away. The darkspawn ogre that was Orsino sat amidst a pile of fruit, smashing apples against the cobblestones. No one seemed to want to get too near him and hopefully, Fenris thought, it wouldn't matter where he sat.

"Come to join the party?" Hawke asked, walking on his hands toward them.

"Is this one of the naughty mages?" Dorian pushed past Karl and Fenris, hips swaying as he looked down at Hawke. "Are you flexible as well?"

Fenris tried not to vomit. Dorian chatting up Hawke was a memory he would like to block out once this was all over. He looked at Karl. "What do you need?"

"Just time," Karl said. "Have them set up a barricade. No one leaves the square."

Fenris left him in order to find Aveline, who wasn't happy to be given yet another order. Still, it was their only chance that didn't involve locking everyone up. Herding most of the animals, storybook characters, princes, and princesses proved somewhat easy by promising them whatever they wanted – food, gold, part of a kingdom, or the chance to kill a dragon. Barricading them in was a matter of moving the broken crates and merchant's stands that the ogre previously smashed. Fenris looked out over the assembled group and frowned. There were a lot of people and it was possible they'd missed some, though he hoped not. However, there was one person he knew for sure was not among the crowd.

"The mage," he growled.

He transformed into his wolf form and raised his snout to the air, trying to catch the scent. Cat – that was easy. Anders usually smelled of cat and elfroot and Hawke. It was stronger and rather annoying after the nights they spent with one another. The unique scent made it easy to track him. It seemed he had returned to the keep and Fenris crept in carefully. The room was a mess, decorations pulled down, tables flipped over and food trampled on. He found Anders sitting in the middle of it all, face buried in the caviar dish, licking the bowl clean. He looked up, letting out a dangerous warning growl. Fenris returned it, chest pressed to the floor, hackles raised. It was to be a fight, then.

They circled one another carefully. Though the tiger was an agile hunter, Fenris had years of experience in this body where Anders had mere hours. He was still stiff, still a new predator. When he leapt it was sloppy and Fenris allowed the momentum to carry them into a roll together. He pinned him, growling, and swiped a paw first across his face. The tiger struggled and tried to fight back. Fenris bit his neck hard enough to hurt but not enough to pierce the skin. The returning cry echoed in the empty room, the tiger's struggles increasing. Fenris growled around the fur and skin and Anders slowly stilled. Careful and hesitant, Fenris pulled away. He licked the top of the tiger's head, then nuzzled him and was rewarded with a half-hearted bat with a large paw.

He wuffled. The tiger listened, got to its feet, and Fenris led him out of the keep down to the merchant's square. Karl constructed a large silvery prison around the ogre and several of the animals. He did the same when he saw the tiger, pausing as he watched Fenris approach. Fenris transformed back, wincing at the betrayed yowling from the tiger's cage.

"I believe that's all," Fenris said. "Can you start?"

"I think we're ready." Karl drew a circle on the ground, adding magical runes as he chanted from a passage in the book. 

Aveline stood near, watching with a critical eye, as if she didn't approve of magic being used in the streets of Hightown even in this situation. From across the square, Fenris caught sight of Thrask who stood with his sword ready in hand, several other templars patrolling the area, keeping watch on those with the cursed afflictions. The runes in Karl's circle began to glow brighter, the air shifting. Fenris stepped away, the odd magic making his lyrium lines ache and itch. A large surge of energy spilled forward from the circle, spreading over the ground, glowing brightly as it seeped into the cobblestones. Fenris turned away in time as a huge burst of light lit the night sky like a bolt of electricity. 

The spell, it seemed, had worked.


	6. You Gotta Fight...: Act 3

Or perhaps not. 

While the majority of the animals transformed back, there were a few that hadn't. Anders the tiger rammed his shoulder against the silvery bars of his prison, screaming in rage, orange tail flicking back and forth. The darkspawn ogre was gone, a very confused, harried looking Orsino sitting in the middle of a pile of smashed fruit. Aveline and three guards strode forward to inspect the results of the spell.

"Did it go wrong?" Fenris asked Karl.

"It shouldn't have," Karl said, kneeling, double checking the circle, the runes, flipping through the book. "Unless the spell wasn't a transmogrification in the first place."

Fenris gritted his teeth, clenching his fists against the anger he felt now. He wanted to blame Karl for this mistake, but when the spell used was largely unidentifiable in the first place it was difficult lay blame on the only person who had a plan. "Hawke!" he shouted, waving him over. "Are you all right?"

Hawke approached, looking dazed. "I think so. I'm a bit confused. When did we get out here?"

Fenris sighed in relief. At least one thing had gone right. "There was a curse. It turned the attendees into their costumes. You were a court jester."

"Not much of a change there," Hawke said. "I'm a fairly large idiot to begin with."

"I won't argue," Fenris muttered. "What do you think of the situation?"

Hawke glanced out over everyone. "I think it's pretty shitty."

"...You're insightful."

"You asked."

Aveline approached, pulling a templar dressed as an owl behind her. "Explain this," she demanded of Karl.

"And just what exactly am I explaining?" Karl stood, looking from Aveline to the templar. "We're still working on-"

"Where are the missing lyrium shipments?" Aveline asked the templar.

"Ser Karras takes them to a room below the Gallows and divides them up. Then he distributes them to the templars who dole out the most punishments to the mages," the templar helpfully informed them.

"That's horrible!" Hawke exclaimed.

Karl's eyes narrowed. "Nothing like a powerful curse to make you confess your crimes."

Fenris caught sight of Dorian who had found a cloak and wrapped it around himself, looking lost. "Hawke, can you help Karl?" he asked, intending on going to see to Dorian to make sure he was all right.

"No, I don't think so," Hawke said, crossing his arms. "I don't like him."

Fenris stared at him. Hawke was tactless, but this was ridiculous. "You barely know him."

"He and Anders used to be lovers. That means I don't like him. I love Anders. Anders is mine now and I'll thank you to stay away from him, _Karl_."

Karl let out a mirthless, confused laugh. "Excuse me?"

Aveline glared. "Hawke, this isn't the time for petty-"

"I don't really like you much either, since we're being truthful and all," Hawke said, turning to her.

Karl opened the book again and consulted a page. "Transmogrification spell altered slightly, creating a reverse… There was something that was never meant to be mixed. I think we have a bit of a problem on our hands here."

"You don't say," Fenris said flatly.

"Akin to in vino veritas," Karl muttered. "The spell the acted as a catalyst like alcohol. Inhibitions were lowered. Those hit with it are compelled to tell the truth." He cradled the book with one arm, the other reaching up to scratch at his beard, frowning. "This… could take some time to set right."

"A truth spell?" Fenris asked in disbelief.

"They exist," Hawke noted with a shrug. "And you're kind of an idiot for screwing that up," he added to Karl, who glared at him.

"Guard Captain!" Thrask called. "I think you ought to hear this!" He was gripping Meredith by the arm; she wore a look of sheer smugness.

Aveline let out a noise of disgust before turning to Karl. "Fix this," she ordered, and hurried to speak with Thrask.

"Help him," Fenris ordered Hawke, pointing at Karl.

Hawke actually stamped his foot like a child, which Fenris ignored before crossing the square to Dorian.

"Fenris!" Dorian breathed, relief apparent in his expression. He gripped his arms. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Merely trying to set things to right," Fenris assured him. "Do you remember anything?"

Dorian shook his head. "The party. Some kind of explosion. A very bright light. I couldn't find you. I thought you were-"

"I am fine."

"I can see that now." Dorian smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I have no idea what I would have done without you."

Fenris felt the heat rising in his face. Dorian was flirty and often affectionate, but the way he was looking at him now was awfully intense. "It was just a spell. Everything will get back to normal. Are you well enough to assist?"

"Yes, of course. It's only that…"

"Hm?" Fenris was eager to return to Karl and Hawke, not only to fix the issue, but to make sure they didn't tear each other apart.

"Fenris, I was worried for you."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Yes? We've been through worse before. I don't-"

"I do believe I'm in love with you."

The confession was a startling one, leaving Fenris breathless. His mind reeled with the implications especially after hearing the discussion between Hawke and Karl. Dorian was compelled to tell the truth.

"...Will you say something?" Dorian was tentative, brow furrowed, worried.

"I don't think you wanted to say that yet." _Or at all_. Fenris wasn't sure. He couldn't deal with this right now. His own feelings were often complicated and anger was easier than its opposite.

"I did want to say it. I've been wanting to for a bit now. I think about being separated from you and I find that I don't quite know what it would do to me. I've enjoyed being with you and the prospect of a relationship terrifies me, but I'm more terrified of being without."

Fenris kissed him hard, if only to stem the flow of words spilling forth. He was used to affection from Hawke but it was completely different. His heart was racing with every confession from Dorian and he needed time to think. This was not the time, and this was definitely not the place. He pulled back. "We'll speak soon. We have to fix this first."

"Garrett!"

Fenris watched Bethany jog up into the square, Bodahn and his son Sandal following. Pulling Dorian with him, they joined the others.

"I heard about what was happening," Bethany said, a little out of breath. "Some type of curse gone wrong. Are you all right?"

Fenris clapped a hand over Hawke's mouth to stop any more vitriolic comments about Karl from spilling forth. "A second spell went wrong. They're compelled to tell the truth."

Bethany's eyes widened, then a very familiar, mischievous grin spread over her lips. It was unnerving, Fenris thought, how similar she looked to her brother when she did that. Hawke seemed to be thinking the same thing and covered Fenris's hand with his own, then grabbed Fenris's other hand and put that up as well.

"You're both ridiculous," Fenris declared, yanking his hands away. "Bodahn?"

"Ah, yes," Bodahn said, rocking on his heels a little. "Sandal may be of service. He believes he can-"

Sandal tugged on Karl's sleeve. "Enchantment!" he declared. "New magic!"

Karl, who wasn't used to Sandal's odd ways, looked down at the rock he offered. "What's-"

"You'll let him try?" Bodahn asked.

Fenris startled a bit when Karl glanced to him for an opinion, but nodded. "His talents would not go unappreciated in this situation."

Bodahn beamed proudly. "Go on, my boy. Show them what you've got."

Sandal returned his father's happy smile, and squeezed the rock. "En… CHANTMENT!"

For the second time that night, Fenris turned away as the merchant's square became engulfed in a blinding flash of light.

-

An hour later found them in Hawke's estate, cleaning up and eating a late supper. The jail cells were full to bursting, reports of illegal lyrium smuggling at the top of the list of crimes confessed that night.

"Aveline's going to have a time," Hawke sighed, pushing a bit of pork across his plate. "I'm not sure she'll ever forgive me for telling her what I really think of her."

"She knew already," Fenris assured him.

There was an awkward air among all of them, Dorian sitting quietly next to Fenris, not contributing to the conversation. Anders sat between Hawke and Karl, head buried in his hands as he tried to reconcile his time as a giant tiger, and the implications of confessions they'd heard after.

"It _was_ Meredith," he finally said, looking up.

"It's a good thing the spell went wrong," Hawke said. "But what was she was trying to do? Force people to confess to their crimes? 'Revealing their true nature' spells never go right anyway. Bet she was just trying to find a reason to punish the Circle mages. Can you imagine how damning it would've been for them if the spell actually worked?"

Karl said nothing, but made a quiet noise of disbelief. Fenris, who was glad of his help earlier, didn't appreciate the deprecation now, but Hawke spoke first.

"Something to add?"

"Simply that it's no concern of yours," Karl said coolly. "Not being a Circle mage."

Anders looked at Karl, then to Hawke, then Karl again. "I can't help but feel that I've missed something." His tone was hesitant, full of apprehension.

"You should ask your lover," Karl said somewhat coolly.

The words from Karl were a slap in the face to Anders, who looked immediately terrified and slightly ill. "I…"

Karl shook his head. "That was unfair of me."

"You think so?" Hawke glared at him.

"Perhaps we ought to-" Dorian started, half-rising.

"No, stay," Karl said with a sigh. "Anders, a word?" He wiped his mouth on his napkin and left the table.

"I can go with you," Hawke offered at once. "I'm sorry, the spell made me-"

Anders took his hand and kissed his knuckles. "It's fine. I should have talked to him before this. I'll be back." He slipped from the table and followed Karl out.

"That's going to be terribly awkward," Dorian said, shifting uncomfortably.

Fenris felt it, the odd silence between them. He knew Dorian remembered the confession he made and neither of them seemed to want to bring it up.

"What happened with you?" Hawke asked, mopping the last bit of food from his plate with a bread roll.

"Oh you know," Dorian sighed, trying to appear nonchalant. "Embarrassing flirtations with everyone I came into contact with. I believe I propositioned the majority of the attendees. Will they remove Meredith from the Circle, do you think?" he asked, changing the subject.

Hawke swallowed and nodded. "Mmhm. Orsino too. Rash of blood mages in the city? And he knew about them? Doesn't matter if he was going on theory or not. There are laws."

"Perhaps the Circle will change," Dorian mused, his tone hopeful. "They do operate better as schools than prisons."

Fenris prepared himself for the inevitable backlash from Hawke, who would undoubtedly get defensive at the statement. Instead, he merely shrugged.

"Maybe. Stranger things have happened. Hey, I spent the night walking around on my hands and telling bad jokes apparently."

Fenris let out a relieved breath.

Anders returned, eyes red but dry. He cleared his throat and held up a hand when Hawke got quickly to his feet, a mix of concern and anger in his expression. "It's fine," Anders said quietly. "He's going back to the Circle for tonight to help Thrask. So many templars were arrested, it's a bit empty there. I'll speak with him again in the morning. For now I'd like to go to bed. Please."

Hawke pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "Of course. You two all right?" he asked, looking and Fenris and Dorian.

Fenris glanced at Dorian, looking down quickly when he caught his eye. "Yes."

"Bodahn had your room made up. Plenty of room for you in there, too," Hawke added to Dorian. "See you in the morning."

They said good night, Hawke whispering quietly to Anders, asking about what happened as they left. The clink of Dorian's goblet against the table echoed loudly in the strained silence. Fenris wished that Hawke and Anders had stayed just a bit longer.

"Are you tired?" Dorian asked softly.

"A bit."

"We needn't talk about what was said."

Fenris clenched his fists, then relaxed, thinking. He thought of Danarius, what he'd lost with his master, the false affection he thought was love. Of the Fog Warriors and Keshet, the woman he'd once danced with and made love to under the stars, those he'd called friends but lost due to his own inability to break through his chains. Then of Hawke, and while it was difficult to speak his feelings for his friend, he still felt them just as genuinely. He looked at him as a brother and though it had taken several years to build their friendship, he could say that he loved him. Were his feelings for Dorian so much more complicated than those for Hawke? Or even Anders, who he considered family now? He reached over and covered Dorian's hand with his own, then entwined their fingers, holding tightly.

"I would not like it if we were separated either."

Dorian let out a breath. "And… the other thing?"

Fenris looked up at him. "Why are all mages so stupid?"

Dorian huffed indignantly. "If this is the start of a bad joke-"

Fenris leaned over and kissed him quiet. Then, softly against his lips, he whispered, "I love you." The words were awkward and clunky, and didn't quite feel real just yet. "I'm not in the habit of saying it."

"I won't make you repeat them," Dorian promised, forehead pressed against Fenris's. He cupped his cheek with his free hand, then laughed lightly. "Well. That is… an altogether new sensation for me. Shall we play it by ear and see how it goes?"

"I think that's wise." Fenris stood and tugged him to his feet.

"At least something good came of this dreadful party," Dorian muttered as they headed toward the bedroom. "Maker's breath, I'll be glad to see the back of Kirkwall."

Though Fenris couldn't quite share the sentiment – Kirkwall was his home now, after all – he was relieved that things seemed to have turned out for the better.


	7. When the Wind Blows: Act 1

Anders woke for the first time in Hawke's bed, curled in his arms. Though they'd fallen asleep and woken up many times together, this was the first time it was in Hawke's house. A gentle morning breeze carried the scent of flowers and dew and he was warm pressed against Hawke under the soft covers, but still quite exhausted. While anyone would have found it daunting to go through the spell's transformation, it was the conversation with Karl that left him emotionally raw. He wished he'd told him in private about Hawke, about how he fell in love with him in order to let him down gently. Though it had been ages since they were together he knew it still came as blow to finally break things off permanently.

_"There are… other circumstances as well. I promise I'll tell you the whole story one day, Karl. I hate keeping this from you, but I need to. Just for a bit longer."_

_Karl reached up to wipe away Anders' tears. "You can tell me anything you want."_

_"Not this. Not yet." One day, he promised himself, he would tell Karl all about Danarius and Justice, but not now._

_"You take the time you need, love. I'll be here."_

Anders squeezed his eyes shut against the well of emotion, against Justice who thrummed in his breast, eager to move, to do something especially now they were in Kirkwall again. Karl was so understanding. He hated to lie to him. But he took the explanation and confession that Anders was in fact completely in love with Hawke. He promised he would write to him, to tell him of the crazy, unimaginable tales of their adventures all over Thedas.

_"You never were one to be caged," Karl laughed. "I can understand what you see in someone like him."_

Anders looked up at Hawke, asleep now, mouth open and snoring lightly. Brash, tactless, impulsive, he was quite the opposite of Karl. They were both headstrong though and both hated to be wrong. _And they both care about you very much,_ he firmly reminded himself. Hawke was fiercely protective of his family and Anders was slightly giddy to be counted among them. Even Bethany seemed to like him, and he thought he would like to get to know her better in the coming months. Once they were finished tracking down RTD and putting a stop to him, perhaps he could convince Hawke to stay in Kirkwall. Anders would take him up on moving in together.

"Huhwha?" Hawke muttered, stirring. He yawned and looked down at Anders. "Oh."

"Oh?" Anders asked.

"I was having a dream," Hawke said, stretching. "About this sexy guy in my bed."

"Were you now?" Anders smirked.

"He kinda looked like you." Hawke rolled over on top of Anders, pinning him down. "Blond hair and all."

Anders squirmed a little then gasped as Hawke thrust slowly against him. "Hawke."

"Yeah, said my name just like that, too," Hawke whispered, and kissed him.

Anders let Hawke slip his thigh between his legs, instantly aroused as Hawke thrust again. Strong fingers gripped his wrists, pinning him fully against the mattress. While he was taller than Hawke, Hawke outweighed him easily. But instead of feeling trapped, he felt safe.

"And there's the knock on the door," Hawke huffed as a knock interrupted them. "I swear to the Maker, Fenris, if that's you-"

"It's Bethany. Are you decent?"

"No," Hawke said flatly. "I'm completely naked and about to fuck Anders."

Bethany heard the lie and poked her head in. "Messenger came a few minutes ago. You're needed in the Gallows."

Hawke looked over and Anders was glad that Bethany couldn't see him, buried as he was beneath her brother. "Meredith's locked up."

"Not Meredith. Thrask."

"Bloody fucking templars," Hawke sighed. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Breakfast's getting cold," she said idly.

"I'll eat in bed! Meal's already here anyway," he muttered, kissing Anders softly.

"Hawke!" Anders admonished.

But Bethany only sighed. "Things I did not need to know about your sex life." She shut the door.

"Now," Hawke said, grinning down at Anders, "where were we?"

-

They were all in a good mood when they stepped off the boat into the Gallows. Hawke noticed Fenris's slight smirk whenever he caught Dorian's eye, and thought he didn't want to know what happened between them. Nor did Fenris seem inclined to share. So long as Fenris was happy and Dorian wasn't treating him badly, the less he knew about their relationship, the better. Theirs was an easy friendship, he thought. He was just shy of whistling a jaunty tune as they approached the courtyard, a templar recruit hurrying to show him through to what was formerly Meredith's office.

Thrask stood when they stepped inside. "Good morning. You'll excuse me if I get right to business. With so many templars currently occupying the city's jail cells, I find my workload has increased tenfold."

Hawke waved him on. "You're covering for Meredith?"

Thrask nodded. "For now. I aided in clearing up the debacle last night and we held an impromptu council. The vote wasn't unanimous but close enough-"

"Can't win them all," Hawke lamented. "What about the knight-captain?"

"That's what I've called you here for. Knight-Captain Cullen was head of a strike team on its way to Starkhaven."

"Strike team? What for?"

"Knight-Captain Rylen out of their Circle expressed some concern with an emerging cult." Thrask shifted a few papers. He pulled a letter from the pile and handed it to Hawke. "A group that was obsessed with death and raising the dead."

The statement immediately put the four of them on edge and Hawke scanned the letter for information. "Could be linked," he said, handing the letter to Fenris, who held it so the other two could read it as well. "You've heard of the crazy magister, yeah?"

Thrask nodded. "This was Cullen's own project. Meredith didn't agree with it, but she gave him leave to take some of our men and head north. If nothing else, a fellow city was asking for aid. It would have looked bad to refuse."

Dorian snorted. "I'll bet."

"He never reported back," Thrask said, his tone grim. "We'd send more men, but we're so short-handed at the moment."

Hawke looked at Fenris who handed him the letter back. "Yeah?"

"It could be linked," Fenris said. "Regardless, a group of templars falling out of communication is troublesome."

Hawke glanced at Anders who nodded at once. "If it's to do with this magister, we have to investigate," he said. "We're getting closer."

"Dorian?" Hawke asked.

"Well of course," Dorian assured him. "Though I'm not entirely looking forward to whatever might have subdued a group of templars, it can't be worse than a three-headed hydra, can it?"

"Hydra?" Thrask look startled.

"You don't want to know," Hawke said flatly. "We'll look into this and get your boys home safe."

Relieved, Thrask shook each of their hands in turn. "Thank you. It will be good to know they're all right. Maker go with you."

They exited the room, Hawke stretching. "Thrask will make a good interim, though. I wonder who they got to replace Orsin-Oh."

Karl emerged from the office across the hall, holding a stack of papers he was flipping through. He glanced up and paused. "Good morning."

"Lovely to see you again," Dorian said, pulling Fenris away quickly to avoid the awkwardness.

"You're taking over Orsino's position?" Anders asked, surprised.

"For now," Karl said. "Until there's an official vote amongst the mages."

"They'd be mad not to have you," Anders said firmly.

Karl glanced down to Hawke's hand, which curled possessively around Anders'. "I suppose."

"Karl-"

"Hawke," Karl interrupted Anders, looking at Hawke seriously. "If you hurt him, I will kill you."

Perhaps it was the plain, matter-of-fact way that Karl spoke, without anger or hatred in his tone, but Hawke was stunned to silence. He nodded dumbly. Karl pursed his lips, returned the nod, and kissed Anders on the cheek.

"Take care of that one," Karl instructed him, heading into Thrask's office, "his mouth will get him into trouble."

The door shut and Anders let out a nervous laugh. "Funny that he's only met you twice and already has the measure of you."

Hawke made a face and tugged him along. "Don't know what you see in him."

"I don't think you want me to list his virtues," Anders said as they emerged from the hall to meet Fenris and Dorian.

"I don't. List mine instead," Hawke said, back to his cheery mood once more. "Starting with how many times I made you come this morning."

"Hawke!"

Dorian leered. "Oh do go on."

"Do not encourage him," Fenris sighed. "To Starkhaven?"

"Quick stop at the estate to say goodbye to Bethany," Hawke said. "And restock. Something tells me we might need a few more vials of lyrium than usual."

"Starkhaven," Dorian mused. "I've never been there."

"Nor I," Anders admitted.

"Pretentious city," Hawke said. "Been there a few times. Never liked it. Maybe it's changed."

"But likely not," Fenris added.

"No, probably not," Hawke agreed. "Still, a possible lead. You get the bags ready," he said to Fenris. "I'll get Alexius on the stone and let him know what's going on. Hopefully we find something linked to RTD and find this guy once and for all."


	8. When the Wind Blows: Act 2

The road to Starkhaven was long and tiresome. Hiking through mountains wasn't exactly something Dorian was built for, even if they did primarily travel at night. He noticed that Anders also grew weary faster than either Hawke or Fenris. Dorian wouldn't have minded speaking with Fenris a bit more regarding what was said back in Kirkwall, but he promised he wouldn't press. Despite his trepidation, the anxiety he felt at his admission, he knew there were more important things to concentrate on. He hung back with Anders, wanting to ask what he thought they'd find in Starkhaven but their healer appeared rather distracted.

"Everything all right?" he asked, going for the safest question.

Anders frowned. "I think so."

"I've normally found that one doesn't tend to wear an expression of utter misery when everything is fine and dandy."

"I suppose I have a lot on my mind."

"I heard a rumor that talking is a good relief to that particular issue," Dorian offered lightly. "Is it regarding Kirkwall? And Karl?"

Anders glanced sidelong at him then looked away, eyes on the horizon. "He's a good man. I hurt him."

"I'm sure he understands." He'd meant to soothe with his words, but Anders shook his head. "He did more or less give his blessing," Dorian pressed.

"He was the first person I ever fell in love with. My first… well, everything," Anders admitted. "Not my first kiss," he amended. "That went to a girl in my village, but we were just kids. Karl was different."

"The first heartbreak is often the hardest to get past," Dorian acknowledged.

"What about yours?"

"Mine?" Dorian was taken aback by the question. He looked ahead to Fenris who walked with Hawke, their heads inclined toward one another as they spoke. "Where I'm from, men like me don't get to fall in love."

"Surely there was someone."

Dorian huffed. "Not going to let the painful memories lie dormant, I see."

"I'm sorry," Anders said quickly. "If it's too much-"

"Rilienus. We were together briefly for a summer. I was sixteen, he was nearly eighteen." Dorian felt the heavy knotted weight in his chest. "We met at a garden party in the spring and arranged to see one another as often as we could. I had a wild notion of running off with him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Fear," Dorian said automatically. It was the truth. He was too afraid to admit his feelings for the other boy. Afraid of his parents' disappointment if they found out. Betrothal was common in Tevinter, his father and mother promised to one another early on. His father would want him to do his duty as a Pavus, marry a woman with a strong magical line and produce an heir. "He moved away after that summer, seeking other opportunities for himself. He had big dreams."

"What happened to him?"

"I have no idea." They'd exchanged a few letters after, but eventually the letters stopped coming and Dorian stopped caring. Or rather, he buried the care under many, many bottles of wine.

"I'm sorry."

"Our lives don't always lead us down the paths we expect them to. I never thought I'd be here, trudging through the mud to investigate a town with possible maleficarum inhabiting it." He paused thoughtfully. "Then again I never expected to be doing half the things I am. I must be mad."

Anders laughed. "Hawke does lead us to strange places."

"The understatement of the year. Speaking of Hawke, though." Dorian waited for Anders to make a 'go on' gesture before forging ahead. "You speak of Karl and your relationship with him, but what of Hawke? What do you see in him?"

"I realize you two don't get along-"

"Okay, _that_ was the understatement of the year. You continue to outdo yourself."

Another laugh. "It's hard to describe. When we first met, he immediately started flirting with me."

Dorian could see why. Anders was attractive after all, if a bit on the shabby side. Dressed up and primped a little, though… "I assume he was rather good at it."

"The worst, actually. But he was sweet. And persistent. I didn't want to step into anything because of Justice." He massaged his chest through his coat, thoughtful. "But Hawke didn't see that. He knew about Justice and it didn't matter to him. I see him behind the bravado and bad jokes."

"Maker knows he has a lot of those."

"Yes," Anders said fondly. "There's a lot of pain. Hurt and loss. He's fiercely protective of his friends."

"And you love him, even though he's an idiot."

"Because of it, I think."

"Well you would have to," Dorian concluded.

"You and Fenris?" Anders asked.

A part of Dorian knew they would eventually get around to this. Maybe he was even hoping for it. A sort of giddy thrill worked its way through his nerves and his lips curled into a small smile. "I don't know what it is."

"Sounds like you might. He's rather…"

"Attractive?"

"If you like that sort. I was going to say angry."

"Introspective," Dorian amended. "Which works out well for me. I like to talk. Fenris does not."

"Quite the pair," Anders agreed.

"He's handsome and brave. He carries his own demons quietly. Ah, metaphorically speaking," he added, wincing slightly at the faux pas, relaxing when Anders waved it off. "There's a lot there. I've seen slaves broken." He frowned. "I'd heard of the experiments of Danarius, the rumors of _Fen'Elgar_ that stretched across Tevinter. I can't imagine the things he had to go through to get where he is now."

"Your views on slavery-"

"Complicated and not something I'm willing to discuss juxtaposed with my feelings for Fenris," Dorian said in a clipped tone. The idea of touching a slave to use them in such a way was disgusting and reprehensible. Fenris was free and had been for a long time. He carried himself accordingly and made it easy for Dorian to remember that.

"You may run into that issue," Anders warned.

Dorian knew Anders was right. It would be a subject to touch upon in the future. "I care for him. I confess I'm treading unknown waters and I'm not just talking about that marsh we stepped through a few miles back."

"Are you asking me for advice?" Anders sounded bewildered and flattered at the same time.

It was a bruise to the ego but one Dorian was willing to take. "If you wanted to share any, I wouldn't be opposed to listening."

Anders thought a moment. "I think it's quite different with someone like Fenris. To be reassuring but not coddle him."

"Affection without smothering."

"Something like that."

Dorian sighed. "It's not easy, is it?"

"No," Anders agreed. "But it's worth it."

"Yes," Dorian said, as Fenris glanced back at them, stopping Hawke so they could catch up. "Yes, it is."

-

The road that led into Starkhaven was ominous, the stench of burnt wood and rotting meat carried on the late afternoon wind. Dorian coughed, bringing his cloak up over the lower half of his face though the ashes in the air made all their eyes sting and water. Every thirty feet or so there was a pyre with old bones and next to the pyres, clusters of scarecrows.

"They're mages," Hawke realized.

On closer inspection the scarecrows, which they thought were built to keep carrion birds away from the pyres, were actually dressed in mage robes complete with hats and staves. The robes were marked with the crest of Starkhaven and more than a few carried bloodstains. Any previous cheer among their group was stifled at once, all four of them realizing this wasn't going to be a simple case of miscommunication and gentle inquiry. Fenris insisted on his sword from Hawke's staff, sheathing it at his side just to be safe.

"Let's hope we don't have to use weapons," Hawke said as they approached the gates of the city.

"What's your business?" a guard asked, stepping forward from his post.

"Just passing through," Hawke said, lifting a hand in greeting. "On our way to Antiva City. Looking for a bed."

"Look elsewhere," the guard said. His eyes flicked to Hawke's staff then Anders and Dorian in turn.

"It's late," Hawke informed him, gesturing to the sun hanging low in the sky. "Just a bed for the night and then we'll be off."

"Are you maleficarum?"

"What?" Hawke laughed, thrown by the absurd question.

"I sense it on you. You're evil!"

Anders stepped up and Hawke had a sudden moment of worry that Justice would emerge at the accusation.

"Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him," Anders recited. "Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world. Or beyond." His voice was steady as he spoke, and he kept his gaze leveled on the guard.

"Transfigurations 1:2," the guard acknowledged. "You speak the Chant."

"Of course, serah," Anders said. "We may have left the Circle after our Harrowing but we have not left the Maker."

The guard hesitated, looked behind him into the city, then at the setting sun. "Just one night then. Curfew's in less than twenty minutes. Don't cause any trouble."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hawke said, and nodded his thanks when the guard opened the gate for them. When they were out of earshot, he looked at Anders. "What was that about? How did you know all that?"

"Starkhaven's notoriously pious. And I found that most templars repeat that verse as often as a merchant bids their customers a good day." His calm, steady tone was gone, replaced by a quiet, seething anger. "Before they dragged me to the Circle, I was devout. In the Circle, we were made to listen every day. It's not the sort of thing you forget under the circumstances."

"Handy to know all that off the top of your head," Dorian commented, glancing around the street. "You weren't kidding when you said they were pious. Look at all these little statues of Andraste."

There were indeed an awful lot of them. Carved from various types of stone or blown glass, only a few inches in height, Andraste was everywhere. In every windowsill, in groups of three or more on doorsteps, decorating the benches that lined the streets.

"That's a bit… odd," Hawke said. "It wasn't like this the last time I was here."

"The city is quiet," Fenris noticed.

Two or three people crossed quickly through a large town square, heads down, hoods pulled up. No one dared acknowledge them.

"I expect that's due to whatever curfew they've imposed." Dorian stood, hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. "Where should we-"

He cut off as a drunken man stumbled out of the alley, slamming into him. Fenris quickly grabbed Dorian's arm to steady him, Dorian protesting the rudeness. The drunk flipped him off, ambled to a wall, and started to relieve himself.

"Don't wanna stay here," the drunk said, looking back at them.

"Actually we were looking for lodgings." Hawke took a tentative step forward. "Maybe you could give us some information on the town."

"Starkhaven's ain't ever been the same since."

"Since what?"

"No, not saying nothin'," the drunk said, bouncing on his toes to shake off the last drips of urine before doing up his trousers.

Hawke gestured at Fenris who handed over his pack. Inside sat a half-full bottle of wine, which Hawke handed over. "Tell us?"

The drunk eyed the wine, looked up and down the street for any witnesses, then took it. He uncorked it and took a swig before speaking. "Name's Zadok," he said, touching his chest. "Used to be a templar. Used to be someone. Popular. Then the Vaels they started getting uppity. Someone put them in their place but that young one, he managed to escape. Hunted down the killers. Took over the city. Now everything's gone to shit."

"How so?" Hawke pressed.

"Weird noises in every corner of the city. People disappearin' left 'n right. Ain't nobody stayin' out past dark. You hear the screams, though."

"Screams?" Dorian asked, concerned.

"They say they got some unnatural resources. Maker himself or some shite." Zadok hiccupped and took another swig. "Good grog."

"Wait, you're saying the youngest Vael is in league with…" Hawke frowned.

"Maker himself," Zadok confirmed. "And Andraste. Would've left long ago but I ain't got nowhere else. Lyrium's good here. They dump it in the river." He waved a hand over his shoulder. "Take a bath, you get your fix. Hah! Well. Tell the Maker I said hello." He stumbled and staggered down another alley, singing a verse from the Chant of Light.

"That was hardly worth it," Dorian noted.

"Maybe," Hawke said. "Never met anyone who thinks they can talk directly to the Maker."

"A mage consorting with demons, more like," Fenris said, his lip curling. 

"You're probably not too far off," Hawke agreed. "Come on. Let's find somewhere to stay for the night."

The inn was a three-story stone building that had seen better days. The threadbare green carpet was stained with unidentifiable marks, a rickety wooden staircase leading to the next floor appeared as if one good blow would knock it all down, and the sign on the front desk was so faded and peeled that it was impossible to make out what it originally said. An old man with wispy hair and greying skin peered at them as they entered and he stood, tossing the book he was reading on the counter when they approached.

"Evening," Hawke said. "We were wondering if you had a room free." His eyes flicked to the rows of keys hanging behind the man.

"Aye, we do. What's your business?"

"No business," Hawke assured him. "Passing through on our way to Antiva."

"Don't touch that!" the man snapped as Dorian reached to pick up yet another miniature statue of Andraste.

Dorian put his hands up, exchanging an incredulous look with Fenris as he slinked further back.

The man slammed a registry on the counter and opened it, flipping pages before he turned it around, and tossed a quill down. "Names on the line. Payment up front. Fifty silver."

Fenris paid the man, dropping the coins on the counter. Satisfied with the payment and the false names that Hawke wrote down, the man handed them a key from one of the hooks.

"Third floor, room seven-fourteen on the left."

"Hope it's got a view," Dorian said.

"Of the alley," the man said, his twisted sneer revealing a row of yellowed teeth.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about the pyres leading up to the city, would you?" Hawke asked. "There's an awful lot of them."

The man whispered a prayer, reaching up to touch the statue of Andraste he'd just admonished Dorian for trying to examine. "Maleficarum. Every last one of them. Turned from the Maker's grace and they needed to be punished."

Hawke grabbed Anders' wrist, shielded from view by the counter. "I see. Thank you."

Seething, Anders allowed himself to be tugged up the stairs, which was lined with not only Andraste statues, but reliefs of the Maker as well.

"It's worse than Kirkwall," Anders said once they were inside their room. "Killing mages indiscriminately."

"It makes sense why Cullen came up this way." Hawke reached up and slid the deadbolt in place, testing the door's integrity. There was another door that connected to an empty room next to theirs and he locked that one as well. "Where do you think he is? The Chantry?"

"More like in a jail cell," Dorian noted, looking out the window. "Fire escape. And the view of the alley is quite breathtaking." He cracked the window open to allow fresh air into the musty room. "Well we've slept in worse."

Two large mattresses sat upon rusted iron frames and it took a bit of beating out the covers to remove most of the dust. Three half-melted candles stood on the lone nightstand between the beds. Dorian lit them with a flick of his finger. There were no statues of Andraste in their room and for some reason this was the most disconcerting thing of all.

"Maybe try to get an early night," Hawke said, tossing his pack on the ground and putting his staff against the wall next to the bed. "Maker, I don't even want to take my boots off."

"It does rather give one the chills, doesn't it?" Dorian asked, looking around the otherwise empty room.

They decided not to change for bed but slipped out of their shoes, keeping their weapons close at hand just in case as they lay down. Sleep, however, was a very long time in coming.


	9. When the Wind Blows: Act 3

Fenris woke first, the sounds of whispering filtering in from the hallway. His heart raced as if he'd just run a long distance, and immediately he recognized his fear for what it was. Without bothering to double check himself, he covered Dorian's mouth with his hand and woke him. Dorian flailed a moment, wide-eyed, but saw Fenris through the dark, the finger over his lips for quiet. The whisperings continued and Dorian nodded fervently, sitting up and trying to make as little noise as possible on the creaky bed. He tugged his boots on and grabbed his staff and bag as Fenris woke Hawke and Anders in similar fashion.

"They're in this room."

They turned to look at the door, saw the knob rattle, and moved quickly. Dorian was about to unlock the door that separated their room from the next, but jumped back when the knob to that one turned as well.

"They locked both," the same voice whispered.

Fenris held up five fingers, squeezed his hand into a fist and repeated the gesture. He could hear and smell at least a dozen, perhaps more. Too many for them to face head on, especially if there were templars among the group. Hawke looked around frantically before jerking his head to the window. Anders slid it open as quietly as he could and stepped out onto the fire escape.

"Break it down," came a growled order, immediately followed by someone ramming their shoulder against the wooden door.

"Go!" Hawke hissed. "Go now, go faster!"

They scrambled out onto the rickety fire escape, hearts pounding wildly, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The sun was long gone now, the moon covered by clouds creating a dark, eerie night. Fenris went first, his eyesight in the dark better than the others, Dorian bringing up the rear to watch their backs.

"They went out the window!"

"Spotted!" Dorian called. "Doesn't matter now. Go!"

"It ends ten feet ahead!" Fenris warned them. "Onto the roof! It's our only chance."

Hawke laced his fingers and boosted Fenris up, then Anders. Dorian was quick to follow and he and Fenris pulled Hawke onto the slanted roof.

"Across the alley, we're going to have to jump," Hawke ordered. "Down there, where it's closer!"

"They've gained the fire escape!" Dorian shouted. "Hurry!"

They raced along the rooftop as quickly as they could without losing their balance and plummeting the three stories below. Fenris backed up and took a running leap, flinging himself over the gap between the two buildings, the other of which was thankfully flat. He rolled out of the way and Anders jumped next, then Dorian. Something fiery lit the night sky, a flaming arrow shot from a bow of one of their pursuers. Hawke slipped as he leapt, slamming into the side of the building, fingers scrabbling to find purchase.

"Hawke!" Anders cried as he and Fenris threw themselves forward, grabbing either of his arms.

Dorian spun his staff, took careful aim, and let loose a volley of flame to counter, holding the men across the alley at bay, creating enough of a smoke screen to give Anders and Fenris time. Through the night, he could see the shadowy figures of at least a dozen men with bows and arrows and urged Anders and Fenris to hurry.

They hauled Hawke to his feet and the four of them were off running once more. With no roof access door, they were forced to break through a skylight, glass raining down over them. Dorian landed badly, rolling his ankle and cried out.

"I've got you!" Anders knelt, a haphazard burst of blue light to heal it, and Fenris pulled him to his feet.

Unsure as to how close their pursuers were, they didn't slow, racing down the steps of the building to spill out into the street. Torches were lit and they heard the angry shouting in the alley behind them. Hawke made a decision, pulling them down the street into what looked like an abandoned building. It was a warehouse of some kind, large crates piled up to the ceiling. Fenris handed his sword off to Hawke and transformed, leading them through the maze-like stacks. He caught an odd scent, a musty sort of odor combined with what could have only been the river. Deciding this was their way out, he followed it.

At the back of the room were double wooden doors which Fenris pushed through. Snuffed torches lined the walls and he could see the eerie statues of Andraste and the Maker along the hall. Everything felt cold and damp, and he hoped the river wasn't far off. Two green circular wisps from Anders appeared, helping to light the path. The corridor twisted and turned and declined until they came to another door, a downward spiral staircase leading into darkness. He transformed back.

"Well?" Hawke asked.

"I don't fancy turning back to face that mob," Dorian said. "It wouldn't end well."

"I think I can smell the river this way," Fenris informed them. "But I might be wrong."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Hawke said easily. "But Dorian's got a point. We go back and it might be a bloodbath."

"Theirs or ours?" Fenris asked, eyebrow raised. "More than a dozen men."

"Probably half the city," Hawke amended. "Knight-Captain Cullen's no green recruit and they took him. Did something to him, we know that for sure now. His strike team was likely prepared for this shit. I say forward."

"Agreed," Dorian said at once.

Anders nodded. "If it leads to the sewers, there's definitely a way out to the river."

"Wait, the sewers?" Dorian asked. "Is it too late to change my vote?"

"Yes. Fenris?" Hawke looked to him.

Fenris hesitated but nodded. They needed to move and forward was better than backward. He led the way, taking his sword back from Hawke and descended the stairs, the others following him close behind. They walked in silence for a while, no sounds of footsteps behind them, no angry shouts. The quiet dripping of water far off was reassuring though. In the near pitch darkness they couldn't be sure how long they walked and Fenris had to transform twice when the path split, trying to get a better scent of the river.

"I smell blood as well," he warned them, slowing as they came to a large set of metal doors. "Be cautious."

"Not exactly something we excel at," Dorian whispered.

Hawke smirked and pushed open the door.

-

"We're ready to start, Brother Sebastian."

Sebastian Vael looked over at the young boy poking his head into the antechamber. "Thank you, Thomas. I'll be there in a moment."

The door shut and Sebastian looked at himself in the mirror. His crisp white robes were soft to the touch, the Chantry's sunburst emblem embroidered over his heart. A break in the pattern looked like a lightning bolt through it and he ran his fingers over the fine thread. His hair was brushed and shining, and when he smiled, he felt at ease. There was no room for doubt in his heart. His flock would see it. Still, it didn't hurt to pray one last time. He knelt down on a plush cushion and clasped his hands.

"Dear Maker, our Father who guides us, hand in hand as we walk through the blessing of life which thou hast given, please give me the strength to guide my people to your Light. Dear Lady, our mother who disciplines us, firm is your hand, swift is your judgment, please give me the strength to punish the wicked, those that stray from the path of your heavenly husband." He lifted the pendant of Andraste hanging around his neck and kissed it before tucking it back into his robe.

He stood, opened a wooden box, and lifted a golden crown from where it sat upon the soft purple pillow. He set the crown atop his head with reverence, eyes flicking to the reflection of the small statue of Andraste in the center of the design. She seemed to smile at him and took a breath before leaving the antechamber. Thomas, the young son of a templar who sadly turned from the Maker some weeks ago, handed him a stack of papers. He thanked him and waved him off, Thomas hurrying up the stairs and out of the basement room. This was no place for children, after all. Sebastian looked first to the six tables in front of him, each containing a struggling man held down by thick chains. All mages, all poor, lost souls. He glanced then to the side of the chamber where the knight-captain of Kirkwall sat, chained to a pipe. His naked body was bruised and covered in shallow cuts, results of his punishment, the first step of the cleansing process.

Sebastian cleared his throat and stepped up to the podium, looking out over the thirty or forty members of his congregation that were chosen to bear witness tonight. _I will save all of them,_ he promised himself and closed his eyes. Andraste's love flowed through him. He felt her strength, the strength that she used to cast out the evil from Thedas, to eradicate the magisters from the land and leash the evil maleficarum that plagued her lands. She gave that to him now and he would not disappoint. The room fell silent save for the clanking of chains and he opened his eyes again.

"My brothers and sisters," he began, smiling serenely. "I greet you in Andraste's love. Tonight we'll welcome a handful of newcomers to step into the light. Sinners of Kirkwall who have seen the errors of the Chantry's ways." He held out a hand. "Come, my brothers, step forward. Don't be afraid."

He watched the former templars step up. They aimed to take Starkhaven from him. His birthright. But they saw the light once their friends were stricken from this plane. His people saw the truth of it and one by one, so too would everyone else in Thedas. Even Knight-Captain Cullen, who protested, speaking to his former comrades-in-arms, pleading with them to stop.

"The Chantry has failed you," Sebastian said sadly. "It has failed all of us. But there is still hope." He gestured at the water barrel in the corner of the room. "Our Lady Andraste has not forsaken us. She is still listening. But first you must commit yourself to the Maker by helping these poor souls."

The sloshing of the holy water echoed in the chamber as each ex-templar pulled a sopping cloth from the barrel. 

Sebastian watched them wipe the skin of the mages and smiled. "Our Lady speaks through me, my brothers and sisters. She tells me what must be done. How we can call the Maker to our side once more and earn His forgiveness! Because we cannot hope to regain His love without first making things right!"

"Hear, hear!"

"This is madness!" Cullen shouted. "You must stop this!"

"Is it madness to purge the world of its evils?" Sebastian asked. "Heathens. The unclean. Those who would turn from our Lady aren't worthy of this life. We must cleanse their souls and send them to the Maker's side. It is their punishment and our penance."

"You're not purging the world of any evil!"

"Silence him," Sebastian ordered. "We do not need his words poisoning the impressionable minds of our initiates."

One from his flock stepped forward and shoved a length of cloth into Cullen's mouth, tying it tightly. Cullen protested but it was muffled.

"My poor deluded brother. The Chantry has tainted you. You are no longer following the path of our Lady. But we'll make that right." He turned to the mages, looking at them with pity. "Sad, sorry things, they had no choice in how they were born. But we'll cleanse their flesh and ready their souls. They will meet Andraste, and She will greet them with open arms.

"Every person is a child of the Maker," Sebastian continued. "He knows the flesh is weak. That every man, woman, and child has desires and temptations. Our lady Andraste will lead us from that. She saw the wickedness in our hearts and now speaks through me. Shall I tell you what she's said?"

"Yes!"

"Tell us!"

Sebastian let the crowd work itself into a frenzy, unable to keep himself from smiling. "She told me that we must not let this world become covered in darkness!" More cheering, the former templars from Kirkwall watching eagerly, waiting for their instructions. "We are Her soldiers! We will claim this world for our Lady! Tell me you hear me, brothers and sisters!"

"We hear you!" came the cries.

"Tell me you understand!"

"We understand, brother!"

Sebastian held his arms aloft, looking at the six men before him. "I beseech you, brothers, commit these heathens to the Maker. Give their souls the final peace they deserve and in so doing, promise yourself to Andraste. Walk away from the wicked path the Chantry set you down and break free! Do it now!"

The mages' screams as silver daggers were driven into their hearts were drowned out by the cheers from his flock. Sebastian grinned widely, watching as the ex-templars stabbed the tainted mages again and again, blood flowing freely as they thrashed, then lay still. He turned to the congregation, about to start his speech again when a form, bright blue and glowing, leapt from the balcony high above, bellowing in rage.

He realized what it was – some kind of abomination that had made its way into their service. "Brothers! Subdue him! This is your true test!" he shouted excitedly, then moved away from the fight as his flock rose to the challenge.


	10. And So It Goes: Act 1

The basement was in complete turmoil. Hawke, Dorian, and Fenris raced down the stairs after Justice. His rage was palpable, a fiery aura of blue-white magic surrounding him as he swung his staff like a club when the cultists converged on him. Shouts echoed off the stone walls and only Sebastian himself stayed out of the fray, stepping back to watch the others fight the abomination.

Fenris locked swords with one of the cultists that made for the stairs, for Hawke and Dorian who were casting magic. The cultist's red and black uniform tore to reveal plate mail beneath it, a fiery sword emblazoned on the metal.

"Templars!" Fenris called out to warn Hawke and Dorian.

"Well this complicates things!" Hawke called back.

Fenris's markings lit painfully, pulling at his flesh and he dropped to a knee, raising his sword in time to parry a strike. The blow hit hard, reverberating up his arm and he redoubled his grip on his sword. A cultist flew through the air, thrown no doubt by Justice, and smacked against the stones with a sickening crunching sound, then slid to the floor unmoving.

"Silence these maleficarum!" Sebastian ordered.

"No!" Fenris cried out, struggling to stand. He felt the sweat pour down his face as he dodged a fireball that came just a little too close and turned to block another strike, trying to keep the cultists from the stairs.

But it didn't matter. The energy in the air shifted and he heard Dorian and Hawke shouting in frustration.

"Cleanse the area, my brothers," Sebastian called. "Purge this place of their heathen magic!"

Fenris turned to look for Hawke and Dorian, dropping his concentration for only a few seconds, but it was enough. The pommel of one of the templar's swords came down hard on his back and he fell, a burst of pain radiating from the blow. Hawke and Dorian were down as well, no magic left between them from the silences, templar swords at their throats. Justice howled in rage and lifted a bench, swinging it, smacking a cultist across the face.

"Take the abomination!" Sebastian yelled. "Do it now!"

Fenris saw Justice go up against templars before, but never twenty or thirty at a time. Every cultist seemed to have some type of silencing ability. It hit them wave after wave and Fenris felt his lyrium marks react. He wanted to tear them from his skin for the agony they caused him now. Then thankfully it stopped, the residual ache all that was left.

"Anders!" Hawke bellowed, lunging forward. He received a booted kick to the face, his nose bleeding freely as he fell back.

Anders, drained of all his mana, was forced back into human form. He fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. 

Sebastian finally stepped forward, nudging him over with his foot. "Chain them," he ordered. "Bring them to the holding cages in the courtyard."

"And the abomination, Brother Sebastian?" one asked while the others hurried to do his bidding.

Fenris felt the cold manacles slide over his wrists, the restricting collar around his throat and he swallowed back memories of his life with Danarius. Thick chains ran from the collar to the manacles and he was forced to his feet.

"Bring him to the backyard," Sebastian said coolly. "I have plans for him."

"What about the knight-captain?" the same one asked.

Sebastian looked over at Cullen. "Put him in the cages as well. His sacrifice will be delayed until I've dealt with this… thing." He turned his gaze toward Anders, his smile without mirth. "All creatures of the Maker will be returned to the Maker's side so that we may honor Him and our Lady."

The cultist bowed and Fenris was shoved along with Hawke and Dorian. The basement was just a very small part of the extremely large mansion in which they found themselves. They were marched upstairs through many opulent, lavishly decorated corridors to a set of large stained-glass doors which led to a courtyard. The tallest statue of Andraste Fenris had ever seen stood in the middle. But he didn't have time to marvel at it as the cultists shoved him into a cage, the onyx bars thrumming with some odd kind of magical runes. He got to his feet, watching them put Hawke and Dorian into similar cages. The others – Fenris counted twenty in all that he could see – were empty. Holding cages for the mages they collected, no doubt. Then they were likely dragged down to the basement for the horrible ritualistic murders, their bodies burned and left along the side of the road.

"Enjoy your stay," one of the cultists spat, shoving Cullen inside one and locking it behind him. Laughing, he followed the others out of the courtyard.

"Here," Dorian said, removing his cloak. He balled it up and threw it the few feet between his cage and Cullen's.

Exhausted and injured, Cullen reached through the bars and pulled it on, wrapping it around himself, tying it off. It came several inches short of his ankles, but he thanked Dorian nevertheless.

"Are you hurt?" Fenris asked, looking to both Hawke and Dorian.

"A little broken," Hawke confirmed, wiping the blood from his face. "Otherwise fine. Just drained."

"Same," Dorian said, looking in dismay at his hands. "It's not like when you just run out, you know? It feels… hollow." He sat heavily in his cage, appearing at a loss before looking at Fenris. "Are you all right?"

Fenris ached all over and his back throbbed in pain where the templar struck him. "Nothing permanently damaged," he assured them. He nodded in Cullen's direction.

"Nice seeing you again," Hawke said to him.

"Is it… Hawke?" Cullen asked, peering at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well. Funny story," Hawke said. "We're here to rescue you."

Cullen looked at the manacles, to the cages, then back to Hawke. "I hate to be the one to inform you-"

"Yes, I know," Hawke huffed. "Everyone's allowed to have an off day once in a while."

"What can you tell us about these people?" Dorian asked. "Aside from the fact that they're insane."

Cullen shifted, leaning away from the bars as he spoke. "We were investigating a call for help from one of the templars here. Knight-Captain Rylen. He said his commander had gone missing and so had a great number of his men. They suspected dark magic-"

"Of course they did," Hawke glowered.

"We were wrong," Cullen admitted, softening the blow a bit. "When we arrived, it was bad. We were prepared for the city to aid us; we thought they would want the help. Sebastian Vael leads the cult that's been slowly taking over the city. They think that all the Maker's children have to pay a price for the sins of man."

"The sins of man?" Hawke echoed.

"He wants to kill all mages. I… I saw him," Cullen swallowed hard. "I saw them torture and kill dozens. Some of my own men, too. Others… joined." His expression twisted with malice. "To avoid being killed, they would rather join. You saw them tonight. The recruits that stabbed those innocent mages."

"A cult devoted to killing mages," Hawke growled. "Just when you think the world can't get any fucking worse."

"We have to focus on a way to get out of here," Fenris insisted. They would put a stop to this cult and get revenge. "We have to rescue Anders."

Hawke stood at once. "You're right. Anyone have any ideas?" 

He looked to Dorian who glanced down pitifully at his bare, magicless hands, to Cullen who through his exhaustion looked ready to fall, then to Fenris, who held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. With the metal bars charmed with some sort of runes, he couldn't phase through and the silences, while ineffective at draining the mana he did not have, would likely make phasing and transforming difficult.

Unfortunately, it seemed, they were at a loss.

-

Anders came to gradually, feeling nauseous and dizzy. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he groaned, rolling onto his back. The stone was cold through his tunic and he realized his coat was missing, as was his staff. He opened his eyes, peering up into the dark, cloudy sky. From somewhere far away he thought he heard the sounds of whispering. His head pounded, but he needed to get up, trying to remember what happened. Being chased by an angry mob, ducking into tunnels and…

"No."

"You're awake."

Innocent mages being killed because of some sick cult that thought they had authority over life and death. He sat up, leaning heavily on his side.

"Abomination."

He should not have snapped his head up but the reaction was almost involuntary, glaring at the man who stood before him. He reached for his magic which wasn't there, his mana completely drained. The place where Justice lay in his soul was disturbingly silent. Glancing around, he saw several dozen of the cult members in their red and black uniforms, the broken sunburst everywhere. Several were holding torches, casting long shadows on the lawn. The one called Brother Sebastian stood in front of him.

"I am going to cleanse your soul first before we return you to the Maker. Do you have anything to say?"

"I hope it hurts when we kill you," Anders spat.

Sebastian smiled, his perfectly straight, white teeth gleaming in the darkness amidst the torchlight. "Once we're finished with the cleansing, you'll enter the Fade to purge yourself of the demon forever." He pulled Anders to his feet.

Anders realized he was on some sort of stone dais at the end of a long, shallow pool filled with lyrium. It sang in his head and he could smell it now, sweet and crisp. He longed to take a sip just to regain his mana, to save himself. But he was too weak to fight now. Sebastian tied his arms above his head to a pole sticking up from the stone platform.

"There," he said, knotting the rope. "Now we begin the ritual. First. Cleanse with fire. Brothers, if you will."

Anders' eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen when two of the cultists stepped up, torches in hand. "Sweet Andraste," he whispered. "No!"

Sebastian chuckled. "Our Lady cannot help you yet," he said, waving the cultists forward. "But soon you will be with her at the Maker's side." He stepped back, hands clasped behind his back to watch. "You may begin."


	11. And So It Goes: Act 2

"Hawke, stop!"

But Fenris's orders went unheard as Hawke tried to bash the bars open with brute force. The magically infused iron burnt his skin when he slammed against them. With an anguished cry, he turned away. They'd been contemplating how to escape, getting as much information from Cullen about this cult as they could when the sounds of screaming filled the courtyard. It was the screams of someone being tortured, someone in intense pain. When Hawke realized it was Anders, he threw himself against the bars, the other three begging him to stop. Magic reverberated up and down the bars, humming almost angrily. 

Though they were some feet away from each other, Fenris felt his markings react to the upset, and suddenly remembered something. "Hawke, the runestone!"

Hawke's eyes widened and he immediately patted his pockets, pulling the stone from one. "Oh thank the Maker," he whispered, passing his fingers over the stone.

They waited in anticipation for the smoky mist, for Alexius's voice, but nothing came.

"Do you think the silences affected it?" Dorian asked, leaning as close to the bars as he dared, watching hopefully.

"Maybe." Hawke frowned. He shook his hand, wringing his fingers and then tried again, as if he could push just a bit more mana from them. Sadly there didn't seem to be anything left.

"What's this, then?" came Sebastian's voice. He strode across the lawn, hands clasped behind his back, smiling benignly. He was flanked by two templars. "A magical device? No doubt an instrument of evil. Take it from him," he ordered them.

Hawke backed up, the templars opening his cage. He held up his hands to defend himself but one punched him square in the jaw and he dropped with a grunt. A booted kick to his side and he dropped the runestone, one of the templars picking it up easily. Fenris watched, seething in anger as they locked the cage again and knelt to get a better look at Hawke. He was bleeding and winded but not permanently damaged. Hawke glanced at him, shaking his head a little as he picked himself up off the ground. Nothing could be done now and the gesture was a silent order to conserve his strength for the moment.

Sebastian took the stone, examining it carefully. "A communications device. No doubt so you can alert other maleficarum and bring them down upon us."

"Alexius is _not_ a maleficar," Dorian growled, stepping as close as the bars would allow him. He glared at Sebastian.

"Destroy it," Sebastian said simply, handing it back to the templar.

More than a bit of force and technique aided no doubt by lyrium allowed the templar to snap the stone in half, the pieces dropping to the grass.

"NO!" Hawke cried out, arm thrust through the bars.

Fenris felt his pain. The runestone had belonged to Hawke's father Malcolm, an heirloom passed down and their only hope of escape and rescue. And now it was effectively as useful as a rock.

"You will have to wait a bit longer before your soul is cleansed and released to the Maker," Sebastian informed them. "We're having a… bit of trouble with the abomination."

"What have you done to him?" Hawke snarled. "If you hurt him-"

Sebastian snorted, stepping up to the bars but out of arm's reach. "The Maker does not suffer abominations. To join one's soul with a demon is abnormal and obscene. They must separate before they are to be accepted."

"You can't just pull a spirit from a soul by force," Dorian scoffed. "You'll do irreparable damage."

"I don't think he cares," Fenris said. Unfortunately this drew Sebastian's attention to him. He clenched his fists, meeting his eye as he walked over.

Sebastian's ice blue eyes flicked up and down, surveying Fenris's markings. "What a curious creature you are."

Fenris spat viciously, the gob of saliva hitting its mark on Sebastian's cheek. Sebastian startled, then chuckled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away. He shook a finger at Fenris as if he was merely amused by the action and walked away.

"Make sure they're fed and watered," he ordered one of the templars. "Their souls will never ascend to the Maker's side in the state they're in presently. We begin phase two with the abomination in ten minutes."

"What's phase two?" Hawke demanded. "What are you doing to Anders? Tell me!"

Sebastian did not answer. His laughter echoed in the courtyard as he strolled away, uncaring. Fenris looked past Hawke whose face was bloodied, twisted in apprehension, to Dorian, who appeared to be lost. He glanced down at his own hands, curling his fingers into fists. It was his responsibility to keep the mages safe and he'd failed.

_No,_ he promised himself. _I will save them._

He just needed a plan first.

-

The intense agony was gone, the sharp pain of the torch fire disappeared, and Anders wondered what in the Void was going on. He opened his eyes, expecting to see more of the cultists and their jeering faces as they pressed the fire again to his skin, but they were gone. His memory caught up with him and he remembered as they stripped him naked, submerging him into the cool lyrium pool. His natural healing abilities took over with the return of his mana, relieving the pain and healing the burns, but he couldn't breathe. Was he dead, then? Drowned in lyrium? But something about this felt too real and he knew somehow that he wasn't dead.

He blinked and the landscape shifted before him. A valley and a field of wheat, and he remembered this place. He knew it because he grew up here with his mother and father. The village was largely nondescript, inconsequential. They were self-sustaining mostly, relying on each other and the few traveling merchants that passed through on their way from Denerim to Val Royeaux and back. Anders remembered the small rag dolls he played with, the wooden carvings his friend's father made them, and the games they would play in the fields. He would lead the pack, making up stories and organizing events.

"Just a memory," he whispered.

His vision blurred and changed again. Black skies and brown dirt beneath his feet. A barren wasteland. He missed his village but this was safer. He knew this wasn't real and trying to trick himself into thinking it was would lead to madness. Focusing on what was true was more difficult but would ultimately be his salvation. He felt the presence behind him before he heard the heavy footsteps, but felt no fear as he turned around.

A tall warrior dressed in full metal plate, carrying a shield and sword stood before him. The helmet had been removed, a man's handsome face looking somewhat confused. Eyes bluer than the Amaranthine ocean stared down at him, golden curls framing his cheeks. Anders knew who this was, though he'd never seen him in such a form before.

"Justice."

"Anders."

"This is the Fade. How are you separate from me?"

"I do not believe this is the true Fade," Justice said, frowning, looking around. "A manifestation of your subconscious. A memory or a part of your mind that I've not visited."

It didn't make much sense to Anders, but he'd not spent a whole lot of time and effort studying the Fade. He could call spirits across the Veil to aid him in his healing, but the Fade was largely a mystery to him. Even in sleep, he dreaded visiting. "This is the first time we've really spoken other than the journal."

"Yes," Justice agreed. "And you dislike when I emerge."

"You look like you're pouting," Anders said, smiling a little. "Justice, when you come out, it's terrifying. For me, for everyone around me. You get so angry and…"

Justice sheathed his sword and shouldered his shield, reaching out to take Anders gently by the arms.

"Am I corrupting you?" Anders asked quietly. "I had so much anger. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better if we separate. Or… or if I don't survive this."

"We have a lot of work to do," Justice informed him. "Would you walk away from it?"

Anders shook his head. He thought of Hawke, of what they had yet to accomplish. The tasks both before them and what waited for him in Kirkwall. "But Justice, you can't simply emerge when you wish. Whenever I get angry, you can't take over."

There was silence for a good long moment. "I do not understand human behavior."

Anders laughed. The statement was so very dry. "Not even humans do sometimes," he admitted. "We'll fix this world, but it will take time."

"An abstract concept in the Fade. Time is meaningless. Things happen when they're supposed to." Justice frowned.

"You have to trust me, my friend," Anders urged. "Please."

Justice hung his head, sighing. "Yes." He paused, then pushed forward. "When I was called through the Veil toward you, it was your soul I heard."

"With Danarius," Anders whispered. He remembered that horrible time, though he tried hard to suppress it.

"There was a demon of rage vying for power, wanting to devour your soul. The anger you felt drew it close. I heard something else. Something more pure than your anger."

Anders frowned. He knew that Danarius likely hadn't had a lot of control when he forced a spirit into him, but he never thought the man was actively trying to call up a rage demon. With Danarius dead he wouldn't find any more answers, and decided he didn't need to know what the man's end goal was. "You fought it."

Justice nodded. "I had no desire to possess your soul but it drew me in. The spell the mage used to pull me forward trapped me. I ventured too close."

"Do you regret it?" Anders asked, looking up at him.

"For a long time," Justice admitted. "I was angry as well. It was a strange concept to me to feel that. The injustice of being trapped, of being lured away. I was no better than a demon. I used my rage to kill templars, focusing on the things that angered you."

"But… why?" Anders asked. Surely Justice's own anger would've become priority. Which likely meant mages, possibly all mages as it would be impossible to discern between Danarius and others.

"Because of your soul," Justice admitted, placing his palm against Anders' chest. "I have said. It was pure. With pure intentions. Freeing your brethren. It was a worthy cause."

"It still is," Anders insisted.

"I cannot follow the path that I've been on," Justice said, pained. "I will defer to you."

Anders swallowed hard and nodded. "I need your help now. The others need your help. We have to save them. We have to save ourselves. This cult, Justice, they're wrong."

Justice nodded. "We will free them."

"And you'll follow my lead?" Anders asked.

"Being part of you has made me realized that even though justice is paramount, mercy is just as important." Justice smiled, an odd expression on the spirit's face. But it was genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Anders took a breath and returned it. "Right. Can we do this?"

"I will be with you," Justice promised him, and took his hand. "Are you ready?"

Anders nodded, the world around them shifting and wavering. "Yes. Let's go back and take care of this cult. And Justice…"

Justice raised an eyebrow, a wholly human expression that he must have learned from Anders.

"Thank you."

Justice smiled again and stepped forward, blending seamlessly into Anders, who closed his eyes, ready to wake and ready to fight for his freedom.


	12. And So It Goes: Act 3

"No," Hawke said darkly.

Fenris glared, lifting a palm to his lips. "This is not up for debate."

"The hell it isn't!" Hawke shouted at him. "You're not a bloody lyrium deposit, Fenris!"

"Shut up, Hawke. There is no other way." Before Hawke could protest again, Fenris braced himself and bit hard into one of his lines, feeling the surge of pain and power as blood mixed with lyrium. The brandings flared and flashed and he shoved himself through the bars, grunting in pain as they ripped at his muscles. He hadn't managed to phase entirely and felt the bones in his left foot catch and shatter as he pulled it loose. The manacles and collar phased through his body and fell to the grass.

"Fenris!" Dorian shouted. "You fool, what have you done!"

"Quiet!" Fenris ordered, panting heavily. He dragged himself through the grass toward Hawke. "Drink."

"There is no fucking way I'm-" Hawke started.

"Hawke," Fenris said flatly, holding up his palm. "We haven't much time. If you wish to save Anders, you will drink the lyrium."

Dorian watched, eyes wide and fearful. Cullen, thankfully, kept quiet.

Hawke looked disgusted. "If you think I'm going to drink from you like you're a fucking vial of lyrium…"

"You," Fenris breathed, the pain in his foot now becoming a distraction, "are not Danarius. You would only resort to dire methods in dire situations. This is one of those times. Stop being noble."

"It's inherent in the system," Hawke complained, but crouched down. "You're a stupid puppy."

"Eclipsed only by your own stupidity," Fenris countered.

"Well who's stupider?" Hawke asked, gingerly taking Fenris's hand. "The stupid one or the one who follows the stupid one?"

"I believe it's the one using the word _stupider_ ," Dorian quipped. "Whatever you're going to do, I suggest we do it quickly before they return."

Fenris winced as Hawke squeezed his hand tightly, forcing the silvery liquid from his lines. They would reform. It would take time, but they were never broken for long. As Hawke lowered his head, the markings flared and surged, and a mouthful was all that Hawke managed before pulling back, making a face.

"Got some regular blood in that," he said distastefully. He looked at Dorian. "It's gross."

"To the uncultured," Dorian sniffed, glancing back at Cullen who looked at him curiously. "Oh do stop giving me that look. As if you have room to complain about who rescues you."

"Break the cage," Fenris said, kneeling in the grass. "You can argue later."

A burst of electrical energy shorted out the magical runes in the iron bars and Hawke was able to pick the lock after, stepping out. He knelt next to Fenris and another haphazard burst of magic knitted the bones in his foot. "Sorry. I kind of suck at that."

"I'm aware," Fenris said, though he was able to get to his feet, limping gingerly to Dorian's cage.

He and Hawke worked together to free Dorian, then Cullen. Hawke bent, scooping the halves of the runestone, frowning as he examined them before tucking them into his pocket.

"We'll need weapons," Cullen said.

"You may, but I won't," Dorian pointed out. "Fenris, may I?"

Fenris nodded. He was exhausted with the effort of phasing, and with Dorian drinking from him he would be largely put out of commission. "Try to force the change on me. If I can turn into the wolf, I can help." Or so he hoped.

"Er, the wolf?" Cullen asked.

"Questions will be answered after the show," Hawke advised. "We still have to save Anders. Fenris, are you sure?"

"Yes," Fenris said at once, though he wasn't sure at all. Dorian had been very careful drinking from him lately. The one time Dorian nearly went overboard, he'd been forced into wolf form to stop him, predator struggling against hunter. It was a fight for dominance and he'd won. He was convinced that even in his weakened state his instincts would take over. Either that or he would die. However, they would all die and horribly if they didn't do something.

"You may want to take a few steps back," Dorian said, waving Cullen and Hawke off.

Hawke grabbed a confused Cullen by the arm and yanked him away. "Trust me."

Fenris heard Cullen's gasp of surprise as Dorian transformed, eyes turning flat black, fangs extending. He offered up his neck and winced as he felt the fangs pierce, then the flooding elation and euphoria that followed. Embarrassing though it was to let Hawke and Cullen see him in this heightened state of arousal, none of it mattered at the moment. He gripped Dorian's arms, eyes closing, groaning when a warm tongue laved over the sensitive skin of his neck. He gasped when Dorian pulled him close, back bending, and they sank to the ground together. The pheromones caught him, filling his senses and in his mind he fell quickly, losing himself. Another part of him pushed back, shoving violently, and his hands elongated into thick, furry paws. The wolf took over instinctively, recognizing the danger as his blood was drained from his body. He pounced on Dorian, growling, staring down at him.

"Filthy beast," Dorian snarled.

Fenris licked his face, tasting his own blood from the corners of Dorian's mouth. Then, shaking a bit, he got off him and leaned back on his haunches. The familiar scent of Hawke wafted toward him and he saw him, identifying him as a friend. The animalistic portion of his brain wanted to take hold but he did not allow it. Hawke helped Dorian from the ground but moved away after, shoving Cullen back further as both hunters looked at him as if he was a tasty morsel.

Fenris growled at Dorian, remembering their task, and took off at breakneck speed across the courtyard. The vampire would keep up with him. They were linked now through blood and lyrium and something else. He felt it pulsing in his veins, this familiar mage who would fight with him and for him. He was family. And family needed to be protected. One of their own was in trouble and Fenris would save him. He turned back briefly to look at Hawke who stood with Cullen. Hawke waved him on, and with a feral grin, Fenris led the way to the backyard.

-

Hawke found a staff, not his own, amidst a weapons cache in the house. "Here," he said to Cullen, tossing him some ragged clothing. "Better than just that cloak. And look, a sword. I take it you remember how to use one."

Cullen accepted both and dressed. "Your friends are-"

"Saving your life," Hawke said, not wanting to argue with the templar. "Yes, abominations of some sort, sure. You really going to bring that up now? I mean, I thought I had bad timing but if you're going to-"

"No," Cullen agreed. "This is not the time."

"Going to get to a higher up vantage point," Hawke said, digging through the discarded clothing. "Hah!" he cried triumphantly, pulling out two vials of lyrium. He downed one, feeling his mana return in full force, then handed the other to Cullen.

Cullen looked at it.

"Look, I'm sure your Chantry will forgive you if you take a philter that's _technically_ illegal as long as you're doing it to save lives, right?"

"…Right." Cullen exhaled and took the lyrium, swallowing with a wince.

"Let's go kick some ass then. I can't wait to get Sebastian's head on a plate." Without waiting for Cullen to answer, Hawke led the way through the halls.

Thankfully they ran into no opposition. No doubt the cultists coalesced in the backyard to watch whatever was happening to Anders. A balcony overlooked the area and Hawke pulled Cullen down below the railing, scanning the crowd. Sebastian was speaking, gesturing toward two of his cultists to pull Anders' unconscious form from the lyrium pool. Drenched in the silvery blue liquid, Anders lay unmoving on the stone slab. Hawke had to fight the instinct to leap the balcony and race toward him, trusting Fenris to know the right time to strike. Snaps of electricity sparked between his fingertips and he readied his wires, relieved to feel his mana coursing forward.

Anders twitched, then jerked violently, coughing up the lyrium. Sebastian waved a hand toward him and two of the cultists stepped forward, kneeling to take him up when a burst of light filled the area. Hawke heard snarls from below and saw Fenris and Dorian break through the crowd. He stood at once, electric wires flying forward, catching three cultists at once. Surprised by the attacks, not expecting their prisoners to have found a way out, the men and women scattered. Sebastian cried out for them to come back, to stand and fight. A hulking figure got slowly to its feet behind him.

Hawke kept an eye on the battlefield, using the long electric wires to watch Fenris's back, plucking off the ones who thought to get a drop on the wolf. Clanking armor broke his concentration and Cullen leapt forward, meeting one of the templars in combat as they surged onto the balcony. The lyrium helped to increase his powers and strength, and Hawke had to trust that Cullen could hold them at bay. He saw Justice, larger than his already formidable size, stand and rear back, letting out an earth-shattering shout. Sebastian's orders were lost in the clamor, Justice thundering forward, flattening the cultists, swiping at them with long-fingered hands, killing them easily. Hawke was finally able to turn to the fight a few feet from him, crushing the templars in an electric cage, exploding them all over Cullen, who blinked through the blood and gore.

"Sorry," Hawke said. "Come on. We have to get down there before-"

"MERCY! I beg you! Mercy!" Sebastian screamed as Justice loomed over him.

"Shit," Hawke swore, and climbed over the railing, carefully scaling the lattice, hopping the last few feet. He jogged to Fenris's side. The exhausted wolf lay panting, but largely unhurt, though his silvery white fur was matted in blood.

Dorian crouched next to him, fangs still extended, eyes still full and black. He was petting Fenris's head protectively and glared up at Hawke, almost daring him to touch him.

"Ease off," Hawke growled, not in the mood. He knelt down, looking at Fenris, relaxing only when a pink tongue darted out to lick his hand. Then he looked up at Justice, at Sebastian who curled in the grass, a look of utter terror on his face.

"Mercy," Justice boomed. "It is a human trait."

Hawke looked over his shoulder as Cullen approached and stopped him. No one who wanted to keep their head would want to get between this. Justice turned his fiery blue eyes to Cullen, who took a startled step backward.

"You. Arrest this man." Justice pointed at Sebastian, as if there was a question as to whom he was referring.

Cullen looked at Hawke who nodded, then slowly approached, pulling Sebastian to his feet. "You'll come with me back to Kirkwall to answer for your crimes."

Justice yanked the ties from the pole, the ties that had held Anders' arms together. He handed them to Cullen who took them and bound Sebastian, hands shaking.

"Best to find out where your other men are," Hawke said, "if there are any left. And any Starkhaven ones that haven't gone completely mad."

Cullen looked around the backyard which was decorated in corpses and carnage. He shook his head slowly. "I can't, in good conscience, ask you to help-"

"We will canvas the city," Justice said, straightening. "Let us go, Hawke."

"…Er, yeah. Sure," Hawke said. "Can I speak to Anders, though?"

Justice gave a wry smile, then slowly changed back, Anders stumbling and falling to the grass. Hawke gave Fenris one quick look before leaving his side and knelt down next to his lover, helping him to sit up.

"Let's not do this again," Anders whispered, leaning into Hawke's embrace.

"Yeah, definitely crossing 'defeat a crazy cult' off the bucket list," Hawke assured him, kissing his forehead. "Sorry about the blood."

Anders chuckled lightly, reaching up to heal his nose and jaw. "I'm sure it's fine, Hawke."

"Up you get," Hawke urged, helping him to his feet. "Well. Sebastian, is it?" he said, looking at him. "Maybe you could show us where you're hiding everyone else. Everyone who, y'know, isn't stark raving mad." He suddenly grinned. "Or should I say Stark _haven_ mad?"

Anders covered his face with his palm while Dorian shook his head and Fenris, still in his wolf form, let out a rather human-sounding groan.


	13. Convalescence: Act 1

Cleaning up Starkhaven would take time. Knight-Captain Rylen along with his fellows were found imprisoned in the palace dungeons. With appropriate doses of lyrium and proper food and rest, they were back on their feet in a few days. What was left of the strike team that Cullen brought would return with him to Kirkwall, and the two cities would work in tandem to restore the citizens to their rightful minds. The Circle, unfortunately, was left almost empty as the majority of its mages were slaughtered by Sebastian and his followers. Sebastian himself would be brought to Kirkwall to pay for his crimes. Rylen was named de facto leader of the templars, what remained of them – those that hadn't agreed to the cult's demands – and the city itself. The Vael line ended with Sebastian and it would take time to find a fitting ruler. Anders made Rylen promise to remove the macabre scarecrows and put the mages' bones to proper rest.

With thanks from Cullen, the four decided not to return to Kirkwall, and instead followed Dorian's suggestion that they continue on to Tevinter to see Alexius and find some much deserved peace. After bathing and collecting their scattered belongings they left the unsettling city of Starkhaven behind. The Minanter River shimmered with the lyrium that was poured into it, the smell overpowering until they sailed further out. Rylen had given them the boat as part of his thanks along with a sack of gold from the Vael's own coffers. It was a smaller vessel, easily maneuvered with little experience, and Hawke and Fenris took turns captaining it down the river.

"The river's much calmer than the sea," Dorian noted, approaching Fenris with a bowl of cheese, dried meat, and fruit. "It's all we have until we reach the next city," he apologized.

"Hold this steady," Fenris said, gesturing to the wheel.

Dorian did as Fenris took the bowl from him and they watched the boat slide through the calm, glassy surface. "How are you feeling?"

Fenris contemplated the answer as he ate. "Anders healed my wounds. Sleeping last night was uncomfortable, but I will recover." He frowned. "It was unsettling."

"Likely the strangest thing I've ever run into," Dorian agreed.

"Hawke and I see a lot of things," Fenris said, trying to put words to what he was feeling. "Spirits and demons, giant worms." He shook his head. "Foreign things from the Fade. Blood mages. It seems almost normal, but that…"

Dorian's brow furrowed as he frowned. "I think I understand. It's difficult to come to terms with the idea that someone would kill their fellow man unless vast amounts of power or money were involved. I do believe Vael swallowed his own rubbish lies about cleansing souls and all that rot."

"Hm."

"Personally I _do_ believe that the Maker exists," Dorian pressed forward. "However, I doubt very much that He would've appreciated that display. Not something I wish to continue to think about. I'd rather look forward to arriving at Alexius's and taking advantage of his hospitality before we move on. I've personally seen enough ends justifying the means to last me two lifetimes."

Fenris silently agreed, finishing what was in his bowl before setting it down. He wiped his hands on his thighs and gestured Dorian aside, taking the wheel back. "Have you fed recently?"

Dorian shook his head. "No. Nearly draining you was enough for quite some time. I'll let you know when I start to flag. Or perhaps I'll ask Hawke kindly instead."

The idea both amused and irritated Fenris. "Even if you believe he would let you-"

"It took much out of you to do that. You should be resting even now," Dorian insisted. He crossed his arms, looking at Fenris with a critical eye.

"It was Hawke's turn to sleep," Fenris explained. "Besides, I prefer the night." He turned his face up to the stars and moon, closing his eyes briefly before looking back to the river. "I'll rest come morning."

"There is only one bed after all, I suppose," Dorian agreed. "When we reach Minrathous… ah. Never mind."

Fenris, who never knew Dorian to keep silent, cast a questioning look in his direction. "What?"

"Well, I suppose I should speak my mind, but I did make a promise not to push the issue. When we reach Minrathous," he tried again, "you'll have no issues staying by my side?"

Fenris frowned. "Would you prefer it otherwise?"

"No, of course not," Dorian insisted. "That's not what I was implying."

"Are you concerned your patron will find it distasteful?" Fenris asked quietly, careful to keep his voice even. He did not look at Dorian, knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel of the boat.

"Fenris. Look at me." When he didn't, Dorian moved closer, taking him around the waist. He pressed his lips to Fenris's ear. "I love you."

Fenris gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to pull away. It wasn't that he didn't return the feelings. He cared for Dorian very much, was very protective of him, possessive even. The idea of Dorian drinking from someone else, even Hawke, was absolutely deplorable. He felt the surge of jealousy at the thought of someone else touching him. But he wasn't used to this type of affection. From Hawke it was normal, though it had taken a long time for him to come to terms with it. What he felt for Dorian was different and the parallels of the emotion that mirrored what he'd felt for Danarius were very real. It was altogether overwhelming.

"I care very much what Alexius thinks of me because he was more a father to me than my true father ever was," Dorian whispered. "But I will insist he change his mind should he decide that you're unworthy of me. Knowing Alexius, he will not present that type of argument." He nuzzled Fenris behind the ear, then very slowly licked the shell up to the pointed tip.

"And when you decide this life is not what you want?" Fenris asked, his other fear taking place of the initial one. Dorian had no obligation to stay. He and Hawke worked well together as a pair, the niggling thought of Hawke kicking him aside finally disappearing after some time. Abandonment was high on his list of fears, followed immediately by being alone.

Dorian sighed and moved behind him, keeping his arms around Fenris's waist. "I can't say what the future will bring. After we stop this crazed magister, I will have to find a place in this world. Perhaps that's at your side. What happens when you wish to retire? Will you stay with Hawke and Anders in Hawke's estate? Watch them grow old and happy together?"

Fenris grunted. He never thought too far ahead. After all, when he was a slave his only thoughts were on his master's pleasures. Traveling with Hawke he'd gotten nearly killed more times than he could possibly imagine. He always assumed he would die in a fight when he wasn't quick enough to react. The thought of living to an old age wasn't one that regularly crossed his mind. "I suppose not."

"It's too early to be thinking about any of that, I'm sure," Dorian said, resting his chin on Fenris's shoulder. "Regardless, I will remain at your side for as long as you'll have me. And for as long as you make it interesting," he added, nipping Fenris's neck playfully.

Smirking, Fenris tilted his head, a sort of muscle memory causing adrenaline to surge, expecting Dorian to bite him. Rather than it being terrifying, it was arousing. "If you found the last few months exciting…"

"I could do with less mortal peril, but yes. I see your point." He kissed Fenris on the cheek and hugged him gently, giving a pleased sort of sound when Fenris leaned back against him. "I do promise to stop dragging you into these complicated conversations about emotions."

"If you did that, I would wonder if you were truly yourself," Fenris muttered. "You've become predictable."

"Maker forbid _that_ ever happen!" Dorian protested.

Fenris chuckled. As long as Dorian didn't expect too much from him, he thought that this was something he could get used to.

-

The sun filtered into the small cabin. Hawke yawned and pulled Anders closer until he was lying sprawled atop him. Sleepy but slowly waking, Anders nuzzled into his chest and started peppering tiny kisses over his skin. He nuzzled the dark hair and Hawke regretting having to stop him when his lips found a nipple.

"As great as morning sex is," Hawke said, covering another yawn, "we should talk."

"Garrett Hawke passing up sex for conversation?" Anders glanced up at him. He pressed a hand to Hawke's forehead. "No, you're not running a fever…"

"Sure, make fun," Hawke said. "Seriously. We need to talk." He didn't mean to make Anders uncomfortable but after all that occurred, they _needed_ to talk. In terms of violence it was fairly up their alley but the circumstances were far from similar. Physical wounds were easily healed, but after seeing what happened in that basement, then hearing Anders scream in pain, and finally seeing Justice emerge, there were more than just physical wounds.

Anders squeezed his eyes shut and settled next to Hawke, curled on his side. He touched his own chest, a pained expression on his face. "Cleansed by fire, they said. They pressed smoldering torches against my skin."

Hawke swore, his entire body tense and coiled, ready to spring from bed and swim the river back to Starkhaven so he could rip Sebastian's head from his body. 

Anders took his hand and gripped it. "They pushed me into the Fade," he continued, holding Hawke in place, feeling the palpable anger, trying to calm him. "I spoke with Justice. Face to face."

"You talked to him before," Hawke noted. "In the journal you kept."

"It's not the same." At least to Anders it didn't feel the same. Their letters were always brief, just a recap of the night, of how many templars Justice killed, or Anders pleading with him to try to remain calm. In the time that he'd been together with Hawke, Justice had seemed to relax a bit, to let Anders take control more often than not. However, there was still the issue of him emerging in a rage, becoming uncontrollable. "We spoke and I think he understands things better. Human behavior." He massaged his chest. "I feel different."

"How?" Hawke asked, concerned.

"More human," Anders admitted, looking up at Hawke.

"You think he's given you control of the driver's seat entirely? So to speak, I mean."

"He'll be there when I need him, I believe, but he's quiet now."

Hawke grunted and pulled Anders close. "So long as he doesn't peek in when we're in bed like this."

Anders laughed. "I don't think _that_ part of human behavior is something he'll ever understand."

"So spirits don't get it on with one another?" Hawke asked, making Anders laugh again. "What? They don't make little baby spirits and push them around the Fade in little spirit prams?"

"You're awful."

Hawke grinned. "Sometimes." His smile faded, fingers playing idly with Anders' hair. "You think Alexius will know what to do next?"

"He usually has an idea," Anders said, sliding a leg over Hawke's. "You're worried about something."

"The stone," Hawke admitted. He kept the pieces. Yes, it was the way he communicated with Alexius, but it was also a piece of his father. When it shattered it felt like he'd disappointed Malcolm somehow. "It's fine. I'm sure he has others." It hurt though.

Anders stayed quiet for a moment, then looked up at him, chin resting on Hawke's chest. "Perhaps he'll have a way to repair it."

Hawke grunted. "Yeah."

Not even the kiss that followed could pull him fully from his mood, though he appreciated Anders trying to cheer him up. There was a knock on the door and Fenris's voice filtered through.

"Are you awake yet?"

Hawke groaned and sat up. "Pain in the ass elf," he huffed. "Yeah, be out in a bit."

Anders embraced him from behind and kissed his shoulder. "I'll see if there's any coffee left," he promised, and started to dress.

Sighing, Hawke pulled himself from bed. Eager though he was to find some rest and relaxation at Alexius's estate, he was not looking forward to any more possible bad news.


	14. Convalescence: Act 2

Alexius was very surprised to see them, but altogether very accommodating. He greeted them warmly, arranging a hot meal for all of them save Dorian.

"You've been feeding regularly?" Alexius asked, concerned.

Dorian turned awkwardly to Fenris, clearing his throat. "Ah. Yes. It's taken care of. And I'm quite in control of myself, thank you. So before you start in on the lecture-"

Alexius held up a hand. "Of course." He looked to Fenris, took a breath to say something, stopped, and merely smiled with a slight nod. Turning back to Hawke, he asked, "You could have gotten in touch. I would have had something ready for you. I've exhausted most of my contacts at the moment and sadly the south has been rather quiet. Something about the death of Empress Celene."

Felix, who joined them for the meal, smirked a little, shaking his head.

"You weren't there and therefore have no right to judge," Dorian said darkly, trying not to remember the ballroom flowing with blood. "We aren't here for a task at any rate. We need to recover after everything we've been through and this was the best place for it."

"Indeed," Alexius agreed. "My hospitality is at your disposal, my boy."

Hawke cleared his throat. "I…" He wasn't often at a loss for words. With a defeated look, he pulled the broken runestone from his pocket. "The last place we were, the guy who imprisoned us took it and… Sorry."

Fenris frowned as Alexius took the pieces. He hated to see Hawke in such a state, a far cry from his usual jovial self. There were no jokes to be made here. He knew what the stone meant to him, the reverence he felt for his father. Silently he dared Alexius to poke fun or to berate Hawke for letting it get destroyed. He would defend his friend. But Alexius only contemplated it a moment.

"Hopefully you have another," Hawke tried. "Like a room full of them, right? Can't be the first one who ever busted one of those things."

"We'll see what can be done," Alexius said, taking the pieces and tucking them away into his pocket. "In the meantime, you all could do with a nice long rest, perhaps a bath."

"Southern Tevinter is losing its regality," Dorian commented. "Not a single inn on the way up had a decent bath. I'll be glad to soak for hours in a hot steam room."

"We could take a ride out to the country," Felix suggested. "I've been practicing my transformation."

Alexius smiled fondly at him. "We've been working through Felix's alteration. He can now fly much more smoothly, and his feathers have wonderful restorative properties."

"Not to mention how utterly fashionable they are!" Dorian laughed. "Delightful. I should very much like to see it. Fenris, you'll join us?"

"Er."

"Splendid!"

Fenris did not respond and instead glanced down at his plate. Felix was polite when they met and pleasant just as his father was. However it felt different now that he and Dorian were… were what? Together? Lovers? Such an odd word in context, he thought. He felt Hawke's eyes on him and shook his head a little. He did not need his friend to jump in now.

"Well if you'll excuse me," Alexius said, standing. "Hawke, I'll see you in a few hours, I expect. I'll try a few more of my contacts and attempt to locate a lead. Until then, please enjoy yourselves."

"Well, I should very much like to go to the country _now_ and wash the flight off me later," Dorian said, standing. "Fenris?"

Hawke leaned forward. "Fenris?"

"It's fine," Fenris assured Hawke, glancing at him. "Really."

"I will take very good care of him," Dorian promised. "Felix?"

"I'll have the carriage brought around," Felix said, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "Hawke. Anders. Good to see you both again." He nodded to them and left to make arrangements for the journey.

"I anticipate we'll be returning in a few hours. Looks like you'll have the run of the baths." Dorian's tone turned sultry. "I would say don't do anything I wouldn't, but that wouldn't amount to much, would it?" He winked, sliding his hand into Fenris's and tugged him from the room.

Hawke frowned but pushed away from the table, Anders following. They'd been shown to the guest rooms the last time they were there and given a brief tour once again. It was easy to find the baths down the hall. They were quiet when they stripped and scrubbed down before getting into the sunken pools, filled by dwarven runes and plumbing, and heated magically.

The earlier irritation Hawke felt ebbed away when Anders moved between his legs, settling back against his chest. "I'm not sure what to do with free time," he admitted. "Aside from the obvious."

"You always could have insisted on a flight," Anders suggested.

"Yeah… I think maybe not. I can't imagine Fenris is going to have any fun with that. I didn't like the way Dorian just sort of…" He trailed off with a grunt.

Anders took his hand and entwined their fingers, resting them gently on Hawke's thigh. "Fenris wouldn't have agreed to it if he didn't want to. He's strong-willed."

Hawke let out a short laugh. "I guess so. Still."

"Dorian also likely wanted to speak with Felix about his relationship with Fenris."

Hawke grunted again. Not a topic he wished to stray toward. "Do you think Alexius has another stone?"

Anders lifted their hands from the water, kissing Hawke's knuckles. "Yes. And you should try not to think about it."

"I know it's dumb. I just don't want to disappoint my father."

Anders shifted so he could look at Hawke and pressed a wet kiss to his bearded chin. "I'm sure your father was extremely proud of you. And if he could see you now he would still feel that way, love."

"Mm."

"I can hear Justice," Anders said, somewhat abruptly.

"Yeah? That's… a little weird," Hawke admitted. He was glad for the change of subject though. "Does he know we're naked and taking a bath together? And that we're _probably_ going to have sex soon?"

Anders laughed. "Are we?"

Hawke looked down at himself, his cock rather interested in the naked Anders pressed against him. "Yep."

"I'm sure he'll quiet down. No, he was asking about what was going to happen to Sebastian. It's odd, I can hear his thoughts as my own but I think I can discern them now from the background noise they were before. If I concentrate, I can answer him. I think the trip to the Fade had a few side effects."

"So if I break your concentration, he'll go away?" Hawke asked, sliding his hands up Anders' thighs before wrapping one around his lover's half-hard cock.

Anders gasped and thrust into his touch. "Mm. He wanted to make sure you were all right. You felt sad."

Hawke scoffed. "Great," he muttered against Anders' shoulder before biting softly. "Just what I need. An overprotective spirit nanny. Tell him to go away. It's time to fuck."

"He's gone now," Anders assured him.

"Good. Now turn around, sweetheart."

Pleased with their privacy and mollified for now regarding the runestone, Hawke grinned as Anders turned to face him.

-

Flying through the countryside on a giant bird was exhilarating, at least for Dorian. He felt Fenris clinging to him with his face pressed against his back, and was sure he was missing the breathtaking view. Felix appeared to have superb control now, likely a result from the practice Alexius no doubt ordered. Thankfully Felix seemed to know to avoid any risky maneuvers, but the flight ended much too soon for Dorian's tastes. He eased off his friend's back, careful not to ruffle any feathers and helped Fenris down.

"You can kiss the ground if you'd like," Dorian said as Felix made the transition back into a human. His quip earned him a glare and he smiled. "Felix wouldn't let you fall."

Fenris grunted in response. They'd landed in a large grassy field, a wooden property marker standing just a few feet away. Fenris ambled over to it, held onto the post, bent double, and vomited.

"I wasn't flying that fast, was I?" Felix asked. "Are you all right, Fenris?"

Fenris waved a hand.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's not very talkative. I do believe that means, 'I'm fine, you stupid human, now stop fussing over me.' I've been around him long enough to translate almost perfectly."

The raised eyebrow from Felix indicated that his friend knew something was up. Dorian gave a modest shrug, trying to ignore the knowing the look. He glanced back at Fenris who hadn't turned around yet, and smiled somewhat smugly at Felix. It was a testament to their friendship, how close they were, that Felix seemed to understand, eyebrows raising in surprise. He inclined his head toward Fenris with a questioning glance. He wanted confirmation. Dorian crossed his arms, unable to keep the smirk from his face and nodded.

"How long?" Felix asked, keeping his voice down.

Dorian shrugged and was saved an answer when Fenris returned, wiping his mouth. "Feeling better?" 

Another grunt. Fenris looked at Felix. "My apologies. I meant no offense."

"Wolves simply weren't meant to fly," Dorian said, gently touching his arm.

Fenris looked as if he were about to pull away, then relaxed. "Perhaps."

"We can catch a carriage ride home if you'd prefer," Felix offered. "I didn't think it would be this bad. Father says that I need more practice before I'm to be of any use in the field."

"Knowing your father," Dorian said, "you will never be ready enough for the field. After what happened with Servis and the desert and this?" He gestured up and down at Felix, indicating his ability to change. "I'm surprised he even agrees to let you out of the city."

"He's a bit overprotective."

"A bit," Dorian scoffed.

"Perhaps it is not entirely a bad thing," Fenris said quietly, as if he was expecting to be berated for adding to the conversation. When they turned to him with interest, he continued. "The work we do is dangerous. We've been training for some time and even with our talents we sometimes end up in over our heads."

"Sometimes," Dorian added, "is an understatement. And with absolutely no offense meant, Felix, your spell work leaves quite a bit to be desired after all."

Felix scowled but shrugged. "At least this way I can act as transport for the hunters that Father guides."

"True, though you would want to watch out for the overzealous archers who mistake you for something ominous," Dorian said. "You're a bit too large for a normal bird and with griffons extinct… Well. If anyone were to try to capture you it would be either to experiment on you or to breed you. Though in the latter case, perhaps that's not such a bad thing. You would finally be able to find a date!"

"Hilarious," Felix said flatly. He looked at Fenris. "He thinks simply because _he_ found a lover that it's now all right to tease me for the lack of in my own life."

Fenris's cheeks turned slightly pink and he looked away. 

Dorian carefully slid an arm around his shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed his temple. "Felix is my very best friend," he assured him. "I suppose that means he's going to employ your help from time to time in order to make fun of me."

"Of course I am," Felix confirmed, grinning. It was infectious, and Fenris returned it albeit slightly less enthusiastically. "Now, shall we attempt the return home in flight or carriage?"

Dorian looked at Fenris. "I believe this is left up to you."

"Flight. Though I will need some time to recover," Fenris said, leaning against Dorian just a bit.

"You heard," Dorian said, waving a hand at Felix. "Come now. More practice for when Alexius finally allows you to leave the nest for good. Hm. That saying is a bit more appropriate now, isn't it?"

Fenris scowled. "You need to stop listening to Hawke and his horrible jokes."

Dorian grinned. "Perhaps. I thought you wished for us to get along better."

"Not if it means I have to endure that," Fenris grumbled, and climbed atop Felix when he transformed.

Still grinning, Dorian followed.


	15. Convalescence: Act 3

The next several days were spent in utter relaxation. Alexius encouraged them to take time to recover from their wounds, ensuring they had plenty of leisure activities and the best food that the city had to offer. Dorian delighted in giving them a proper tour of Minrathous, taking them shopping and out to fine restaurants and even the theatre. Anders in particular enjoyed the Arcanist Hall and the wonders it had to offer. Even Fenris, who held a vast dislike for Minrathous and Tevinter in general, had a good time.

Upon returning to Alexius's estate in the evenings they would retire to the lounge to contemplate their next move. Alexius assured them he would let them know just as soon as he tracked down a new lead. Anders wrote to Karl to inform him of what happened in Starkhaven and assured him they were all fine, though he likely already knew. Hawke, taking his lead, wrote to Bethany in the same vein. They were all starting to go just a little stir crazy when one evening, Alexius interrupted their talk, ducking his head into the lounge, his gaze falling on Hawke.

"You'll forgive the interruption. Garrett, my boy, I need you in my office, please."

Hawke waved Fenris back to his seat when he started to get up, gave Anders a quick kiss on the cheek, and trailed Alexius out of the room. "Did you find something about RTD?"

"I'm not sure how that awful nickname actually stuck," Alexius said with a warm smile, leading Hawke down the hall. "I believe I know where you'll be heading next. I need to verify it with a few of my contacts first."

He opened the door to his office and followed Hawke inside. Ceiling to floor bookshelves lined two of the walls, containing thick tomes of varying subject. An antique oak desk sat in a corner in front of two windows which overlooked the gardens. A large fireplace took up much of the last wall, a roaring fire giving the room quite a bit of light and warmth. Alexius gestured him to a couch near the fireplace and Hawke sat, a little tentative.

"So what's up?" he asked. Though he'd been taking orders from Alexius for a very long time now, it was still a bit odd to speak to the man in person.

Alexius took up a wooden box from his desk and sat next to Hawke on the couch. "I believe you'll want to see this." He opened the lid.

Hawke looked down. Inside on a satin cushion sat his runestone. Or one that looked like it. He wondered if Alexius just had another lying around and managed to infuse some magic into it. With Alexius's encouragement, he picked it up. It felt familiar in his hand and instinctively he turned it over. Carved in the back of the stone were two sets of initials: _M.H._ and _G.H._ His father's and his own, both made by Malcolm a long time ago. 

"It's the same one," Hawke whispered, holding it now with reverence.

Though it embarrassed him to admit it, for days now he'd felt like he let his father down. That the one thing he truly had to remind him of Malcolm and it was broken into pieces. That he'd let that happen. It had become more than just a communications device over the years. He watched his father use it when he was younger, he learned how to call for help on it. And Malcolm trusted him with it. He felt a very painful twisting in his chest, a hard lump in his throat that he tried to swallow down and couldn't, and the first hot tears that fell into his beard came as a bit of a surprise to both him and to Alexius.

"Sorry," Hawke whispered, embarrassed, wiping them away.

Alexius set the box aside, sliding closer on the couch, and put a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "Are you all right, son?"

Perhaps it was the concern, or the affectionate word, or just his overall relief, but Hawke couldn't speak. He nodded, then shook his head, then closed his eyes, letting himself cry. Though he would deny it if anyone asked, Hawke clung to the man before him. A father figure, someone he looked up to almost as much as he looked up to his own father. He thought he'd gotten over Malcolm's death, but the last few weeks finally caught up to him and he needed the release. Alexius embraced him firmly, remaining quiet as Hawke worked through it, his tears finally coming to an end.

"Maker's breath," Hawke chuckled. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and sniffed. "Bawling like a fucking baby over a rock."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Alexius assured him. "You've more of an emotional tie to your stone than most ever would."

"Yeah. Just… don't tell the others, alright?" He wouldn't be able to live it down. Anders would be concerned. Dorian would definitely tease him. And Fenris would awkwardly ask if he was okay, and then forget it ever happened.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Alexius promised.

"How did you fix it, anyway?" Hawke asked, picking it up. There was no sign of a crack, not even a splinter. It looked wholly intact.

"A somewhat difficult ritual. I used a time magic spell on it."

"Time magic spell," Hawke repeated.

"Theoretical magic that I studied in my youth. It involves intense manipulation of the Veil, warping it so that time flows differently. It was a matter of bringing it back to a few days before it was destroyed."

Hawke knew he had a dumbfounded look on his face. "Time magic spell," he said again, then shook his head. "I'm… really I'm grateful. I thought it was just going to be broken forever."

Alexius clasped him on the arm and stood, gesturing him toward the door. "I'm glad to have helped. And Garrett," he said as Hawke stepped into the hall, still looking at the stone.

"Huh?" He looked up, tucking the stone carefully into his pocket.

"Your father. No matter what you might think, he was very proud of you. Don't ever forget that."

Hawke swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Alexius bid him good night and shut the door, leaving Hawke to collect himself for a few minutes before returning to join the others.

-

A few more days passed before Alexius gathered them in the dining room, a map of Thedas laid out over the table, different colored pins were pushed into several locations. That wasn't the only evidence of Alexius's work. Notes and books piled up high, a large board made of cork with ink sketches pinned to it sat in a corner. Only a small part of the table was left empty presumably so Alexius and Felix could take their meals. Alexius gestured now to Tevinter, tapping Minrathous and trailing his finger down to the heart of the country.

"Crassius Servis," he said.

Dorian rankled. "Here I was hoping he was eaten by that worm monstrosity or left for dead somewhere in the Hissing Wastes. No such luck, I suppose."

"Quite," Alexius sighed. "We've already confirmed his connection with the magister. I've had hunters combing the country for information leading to his whereabouts and I've narrowed it down to a small section of the Silent Plains. Descriptions depict a castle or some type of fortress roughly here." He circled a section of the map. "Our best course of action at this point would be to locate Servis, subdue him, and bring him back to Minrathous for questions. No executions," he said, looking from Dorian to Hawke.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that," Hawke said somewhat stuffily. He pointed at Fenris. "He's the kill-happy elf."

"Fenris has admirable restraint in comparison," Alexius returned. "And Dorian, this is not a revenge mission, yes?"

"I do so enjoy being called out on what would be justified were a spell to _slip_."

Alexius scowled, an expression not often seen on the otherwise pleasant man's face. "This may be our only chance to obtain necessary information that will lead us to our next step."

Dorian relented, holding up a hand as an apology. "Very well. We'll seek Servis out and bring him back."

"Simple enough task," Hawke said.

"Yes, but when are things ever that simple?" Anders asked, frowning. "We'll need to supply before we leave."

"You'll have the armory and laboratory at your disposal," Alexius assured them. "Whatever it is you might need for the journey."

"In that case we'll leave tonight," Hawke said. "We travel better at night."

"Inconspicuous travel is best," Alexius pressed. "No inns, no cities. You don't want to alert Servis to your presence."

Dorian groaned. "It figures. In the one civilized country where we might find a decent place to sleep, we end up sleeping on the ground."

"You could always stay here," Hawke countered.

"No I couldn't. You'd be positively lost without me."

"Your sense of direction is fairly abysmal," Fenris confirmed.

Hawke scoffed then looked to Anders for support. "It is not."

Anders tried to keep from smiling. "Well…"

"I've half a mind to leave you all here," Hawke declared. He leaned forward to look at the map a bit more closely. "Or not. That's a lot of ground to cover. Still, this should be easier than sea monsters and cult leaders. Let's get one last good meal before we suit up and head out."

There was a general murmuring of assent between the other three, and they dispersed to pack their things, eager to finally move on.


	16. And Then the Fright Began!: Act 1

Despite their traveling conditions, they were making good time on their journey south. Speculation on what they would find once they reached Servis and his stronghold ranged from nothing out of the ordinary to a castle full of strange and macabre things. They would likely find resistance along the way, house guards to be sure, and many powerful mages. Regardless of what they found, Dorian was almost positive it would be chock full of random artifacts due to Servis's magpie-like tendencies.

"As long as none of those artifacts tries to eat us, I think we'll be fine," was Hawke's general assessment of the news.

They were getting close to their destination, the marker on the map indicating that they would reach the stronghold within another day's travel time. Though they were anticipating an end to their journey and to finding out more information that would hopefully lead them to RTD, they decided not to push themselves, wanting to be alert and refreshed for the inevitable fight. Servis would not go quietly and Maker only knew how many apprentices or lackeys he had. With trepidation and excitement, they settled into their tents one last time, hoping they were finally coming to the end of their task.

Hawke was the first to wake, immediately ill-at-ease when he realized they were no longer in the Tevinter countryside. He bolted upright, reaching for his staff, but even its reassuring presence next to him did nothing to calm him. Anders, Dorian, and Fenris remained unconscious lying not in their tents, but on the cold ground. It took him a moment to recognize their surroundings and saw Kirkwall's Lowtown with its tan stone and familiar blood red iron doors.

"Fenris," he hissed, leaning over to shake him awake. "Anders. Dorian, get up."

His companions woke, groggy as they came to.

"What in the-" Dorian started, confused. He ambled to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff. "I certainly wasn't expecting to be back in Kirkwall for at least another few months. Honestly I think I saw enough of the city the last time we were there."

Anders frowned as Hawke pulled him upright and looked around almost frantically. He cried out, gripping his head and Hawke was there, arms around him.

"What's wrong? Why are you… What have you done, Anders?" he asked sharply, then blinked. "That's not what I wanted to say." But the words continued to come without his permission. It was his voice, but someone else was controlling him. "What did you do? You could've told me what you were doing!"

"I couldn't," Anders said, then looked confused. "Couldn't what? What's going on? I didn't mean to say that."

Fenris scowled. "You mages are all the same!" His eyes widened and he looked to Hawke, clearly unsettled. "I… I apologize, that's…" He broke off quickly, pursing his lips.

"What do you expect from a rogue terrorist apostate?" Dorian said loftily. He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised with himself. "Er. No offense, Anders. I'm not sure exactly where that came from, honestly."

Anders shook his head. "There's strange magic at work here."

Hawke felt a headache starting to form behind his eyes. Feelings that didn't seem like his own swirled in his mind. Memories he _knew_ weren't his filled his head. Searching the Bone Pit for ore, scavenging the sewers for some awful smelling concentrated powder. Then Anders, desperate, blew up the chantry. But if that was true, where was everyone? Lowtown was suspiciously empty. And he thought he would've remembered something like _that_. The last time they were in Kirkwall, the chantry was definitely still standing. He looked up to see the grey buildings high above them, free of any wonton destruction. "We need to find a way out of here."

Fenris seemed to be fighting the urge to move, his fists clenched, a pained grimace as he looked away from the group. "We need to…"

"Are you all right?" Hawke asked, immediately concerned. He quickly crossed to him, shoving Anders back, causing him to stumble. He felt a twinge of guilt for treating him in such a way, but Fenris was upset and he cared about Fenris. In fact, it hurt him to see Fenris so upset and he gently took his friend by the arms. "Fenris, look at me."

"What in the Maker's good name is going on?" Dorian asked. "Why am I here? And why do I feel the urge to set Anders on fire?"

Anders shook his head. "This isn't right. Nothing about this is truly-" He broke off, looking at Hawke and Fenris who were staring into each other's eyes. "Hawke?"

"Be quiet, mage," Fenris whispered. He cupped Hawke's face. "Hawke. I've always wanted to tell you how much I…"

"How much you what?" Dorian asked. "Fenris, what are you-"

Hawke pulled Fenris up suddenly, crushing his lips against the surprised elf's. Fenris's eyes widened then closed as he wrapped his arms firmly around Hawke's neck.

Dorian looked stricken but shook his head, trying to rid himself of the vision. "This is some construct of the Fade. Some sick manifestation of their deepest fears. Or ours. Fenris!"

Anders gaped, opening his mouth to speak, then closing and swallowing hard. "This… this cannot stand. This won't stand. I won't stand for this!"

Hawke shoved Fenris away, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Maker's breath, what was that?"

Fenris bent double, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Confused, dazed, and extremely angry with himself, he didn't dare look up. "A magic most foul."

"You're not that good a kisser either!" Hawke shot back, looking terrified. He turned to Anders, his eyes wide and begging for forgiveness. "I don't know what happened. I just… I'm in love with Fenris. I always have been. It's never been about you." He quickly covered his mouth with his hands, shaking his head.

Dorian fought the urge to run from all of them and forced himself to walk forward, reaching out to touch Fenris on the shoulder. "Fenris-"

Fenris shoved him away, glaring up at him. "Don't touch me, magister! Slaver!"

"Enough!" Anders shouted, clacking his staff to the ground. "Enough, all of you! You've all contributed to the oppression of mages!" He pointed a finger at Fenris. "You've always hated mages. You'll do everything you can to see them locked up or worse! And you," he said, turning to Dorian. "Your country is responsible for this! If Tevinter hadn't marched on the Fade all those years ago, the Chantry never would have locked us up!"

"Anders," Hawke started.

"Shut your mouth, abomination!" Fenris shouted, then turned away, clearly distressed with what he'd just said.

"And you're the worst of all," Anders said, glaring at Hawke. He hit his staff against the ground again. "Pretending you loved me when really it was Fenris all this time. Well for that, you all have to die!"

He twirled his staff above his head, lightning streaking across the sky. The ground rumbled beneath them, knocking them all off their feet. All around them, buildings started to explode, a shockwave of power burying them in rubble, killing them instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold stars to anyone who gets the reference to the episode title.


	17. And Then the Fright Began!: Act 2

"Lieutenant Hawke."

Hawke blinked. "Sorry, what?"

Cullen stood before him wearing the uniform of the Knight-Commander. He smiled patiently and straightened up. "Lost you there for a second. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"I think so," Hawke said. He looked around. It was Meredith's old office. That would stand to reason, Cullen being promoted after the mess that was the masquerade ball and his subsequent return to Kirkwall after the Starkhaven debacle. "What's going on?" It was then that he realized he was wearing the uniform of the Kirkwall templar, insignia laden breastplate and all. "What am I wearing?"

"Your armor?" Cullen offered, confused. "Are you sure you don't need more rest? After you took down that last coven of blood mages, you jumped right back into the field. I know you're trying for a promotion, but you're no good to the Order in this state."

"I'm… fine. Sure, absolutely fine," Hawke said. Bits of his memory filtered back to him. They were just in Lowtown not more than five minutes ago. He remembered the explosions, getting buried under a thousand tons of rubble. He crossed to a window and looked out. Beyond the bay, Lowtown stood still fully intact, Hightown above it glittering like so many jewels in the dusky twilight. He was hit with a sudden thought and winced. Whatever magic had a hold of them had forced him into thinking he was in love with Fenris and they'd _kissed_. He gagged a little but passed it off as a cough before turning back to Cullen.

"If you're sure." Cullen still looked wary but continued what seemed to be a report. "So we've tracked the apostate to the sewers. You should be able to catch him off guard but be aware of his bodyguard. A rather agile elf named-"

"Fenris."

"Yes. You've heard of him?"

Hawke wanted to tell Cullen that yes, he'd heard of his best friend, but something was definitely wrong. As Dorian said, perhaps a manifestation of their fears. The Fade playing tricks on them. He tried to remember what they were doing before they were swept away in this strange world but it was difficult to recall. He knew they weren't in Kirkwall, though. They'd left Kirkwall, of that he was positive.

"Yes," Hawke said, because Cullen was waiting for an answer.

"Good. I can assign a team to accompany you down to Darktown." Cullen reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a few files.

"I can go alone," Hawke insisted. Who knew what he was going to find in Darktown and if he could actually trust these templars not to attack Anders on sight. And if Justice got any funny ideas that he was there to hurt or arrest Anders… well, Hawke quite liked his head unsquished.

Cullen frowned. "These are dangerous men, Hawke. I can't risk-"

Hawke grinned broadly. "Come on, Commander. It's me. I'm the Champion of Kirkwall!" Or at least he hoped he was in this strange vision.

"That's true enough, but fighting Qunari is quite different from this apostate. It's said he's an abomination."

"You don't say," Hawke said through gritted teeth. He was growing more and more anxious. "I'll pop down there now and if I'm not back in a few hours, send the others after me. I bet I can convince this apostate to turn himself in." _Or we can all escape the city under the cover of darkness!_ That was more likely.

Though it was clear that Cullen wasn't happy with this, he nodded. "Very well, lieutenant. If you can bring him in you'll be looking at that promotion."

"Aye, aye, Commander," Hawke said, saluting before turning and leaving as fast as he could.

The Gallows were familiar at least. He crossed the sea, drumming his fingers against the side of the boat, thanked the ferryman, and headed toward one of the many passages that took him into Darktown. While he wasn't in Kirkwall often anymore, he knew the streets of his city like the back of his hand. For all Fenris made fun of him with his horrible sense of direction, for better or worse Kirkwall was home. That included every dank alley and paved street, dead end, and secret tunnel. Though he never had to make the journey in templar armor before and was slightly put out by the reactions he received. People made way for him, scurrying like roaches as his boots sloshed in the muddied streets of Darktown.

He found the clinic in the same spot, not that he was expecting it to be elsewhere but with whatever magic was at work, he wasn't counting anything out. Or so he thought he wasn't counting anything out. He realized he'd vastly underestimated this magic when he opened the clinic doors and saw Fenris sitting in a huge pile of flowers. He was threading them together to create a long chain and seemed quite happy to be doing so. Anders was next to him, head on Fenris's shoulder, and they were having a conversation which stopped when Hawke entered.

"Templar!" Anders shouted and both got to their feet.

Fenris pulled his sword out and it was then that Hawke realized his entire body was adorned in the chained-together flowers, like decoration for his armor. "Why are you here?"

"To kill the mage!" Hawke frowned, the words ripped from his mouth before he could stop himself. "No, that's not it. Fenris, Anders, look, we have to get out of here. This is – TEMPLAR BUSINESS AND YOU WILL NOT INTERFERE! Maker damn this curse!" He bit his tongue.

Fenris looked at Anders who was standing, dressed similarly with flowers decorating him. "I will not let this templar take you, my love."

Anders smiled fondly at him, taking his hand. "I knew I could count on you to protect me."

"What?" came a new voice from behind Hawke.

Hawke turned, actually relieved for once in his life to see Dorian. "The spell or curse or whatever. It's got them in a thrall or something. I can't seem to…" He clamped down on the next words that threatened to spill over, which was to make another jab at Anders and his apostasy.

"You will not tear us apart, templar!" Anders said.

"Calm down," Fenris soothed him, and pulled him close.

The next thing that happened Hawke wished he could burn from his memory forever. Fenris pulled Anders down into a searing kiss which Anders returned wholeheartedly, hands reaching around to grope at Fenris's ass. Hawke turned away, gagging, and caught Dorian's expression. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Enough of this!" Hawke shouted, sword in hand. Unable to stop himself, he ran forward and to his horror, sank his blade into Anders' chest, a spurt of blood spraying him in the face. Wide-eyed, he watched as Anders slid back, falling to the ground, clutching the wound. "No! Oh Maker, no, Anders!"

Fenris dropped quickly, gathering Anders in his arms. "Anders? Mage? Speak to me!"

Anders reached up with one weak and shaking hand, and cupped Fenris's face. "I love you," he whispered, then fell limp in Fenris's arms.

"No," Fenris whispered. "NO!"

Hawke shook his head, hoping that this was just an awful dream or the curse or whatever it was that was causing this. He was focused on Anders, on the unmoving form lying amidst the flowers covered in blood, and didn't realize that Fenris had gotten to his feet. A burning pain in his chest alerted him to the steel that cut through his templar plate armor like paper. He looked up and saw the anger on Fenris's face, the absolute disgust before Fenris pulled the sword free. With one more swift stroke, he lopped off Hawke's head.


	18. And Then the Fright Began!: Act 3

Hawke's first grateful thought upon opening his eyes was that he wasn't dead. His next was to make sure Anders was all right. In a panic, he sat up and looked around. Fenris lay unconscious but breathing next to him and there, a few feet away, lay Anders. He crawled over to him quickly and touched his chest, looking for a wound that thankfully didn't exist. Sliding his arm under Anders' shoulders, he pulled him to a sitting position and gently smacked his cheek to wake him.

"Anders?"

"What?" Anders muttered, eyes slowly opening. "Hawke? What's wrong?"

Hawke didn't respond, just kissed him hard, trying to reassure himself that this was real, that Anders was alive, that he hadn't killed him. He didn't realize he was tearing up until Anders pushed him back gently, and had to blink furiously to clear his vision. "Thank the Maker. I thought I'd killed you."

Anders rubbed at his chest, frowning. "I remember that. I remember not being able to stop what I was saying or doing. It was like… it was like when Justice takes over. I saw out of my own eyes but I couldn't… Maker, I _kissed_ Fenris. Hawke, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop myself."

"It wasn't all that pleasant from this end either, mage," Fenris groused, waking. He pressed a hand to his forehead, then looked at Hawke. "A demon's thrall, perhaps?"

Hawke shook his head. "Feels more powerful. Demons I can handle." He stood, helping Anders to his feet, and did not let go of him. "You sort of just will away the bad stuff with them. Or point out that they're a demon. That usually pisses them off."

"Not to mention demons that create visions are more likely to prey upon our desires," Anders added. "They would show us worlds we actually wish to be a part of instead of altering our personalities in such a way. It doesn't make sense that they would cause us to…" He waved a hand to finish his thoughts, not wanting to revisit the things that had happened in the visions.

Fenris frowned and looked around. "Where are we? And where is Dorian?"

Hawke glanced around the large sitting room they found themselves in. It wasn't any estate he'd ever been in before, lacking the grey stone walls of Kirkwall's Hightown. "Looks a bit like Alexius's house, doesn't it? The marble and all."

"It is Tevinter," Fenris identified distastefully. "Perhaps Alexius is-"

The doors opened and Dorian stormed in, looking livid. "Because I told you already, father, I do NOT want to marry her!"

Dorian's father, slightly shorter in stature than his son, skin a touch darker and more weathered, followed. He slammed the doors shut behind him. "Dorian, this is not a debate!"

"I don't like women! I've told you this!"

Hawke took Anders carefully by the wrist, pulling him back. The two men didn't seem to see any of them yet, or recognize they were in the room. Fenris remained where he was, staring resolutely, waiting.

"You are a horrible son!" Halward shouted. "You are an ingrate! Terrible, you've never been a single thing you should have!"

"Stop it," Dorian said, his voice edging on pleading. "Father, please don't. You know how hard I've tried."

"You have to learn your place! No Pavus heir will be a queer. We're going to beat that notion out of you right now!" He undid the leather belt from around his waist and folded it in two.

Dorian seemed to lose all semblance of calm and immediately backed away. "No, Father!"

"Stop it!" Fenris ordered, grabbing Halward's arm as he raised a hand to bring the belt down.

Halward turned, glaring. "Oh is this your whore lover? Hm? An elf at that, Dorian! Haven't I taught you better? This is the standard to which you are lowering yourself? Disgusting!"

"This is not good," Hawke said, reaching for his staff.

"And you two as well!" Halward said, pointing at Hawke and Anders. "Corrupting my son! Forcing him into activities so debased!"

"Please, Father, they're my friends!" Dorian begged.

"If you won't listen to reason, then we'll do this the hard way!" Halward shouted. He wrenched his arm away from Fenris and swung the belt hard, catching Dorian across the shoulder with a sharp _SLAP!_

"Look, that's not Dorian's father," Hawke said quickly to Anders as Fenris leapt forward onto Halward's back. "It's a demon or something else. We can just set him on fire or something, right?"

Anders, though he looked hesitant to do so, nodded. "We can't trust anything in here. Even ourselves. It's like the Fade but worse."

"I'll teach you not to be a cocksucker!" Halward shouted, bringing the belt down again.

Fenris grabbed his arm and wrenched it back violently. A loud popping sound echoed as he pulled it from its socket. Halward screamed in pain.

"Make it stop!" Dorian pleaded, looking wide-eyed at Anders and Hawke.

Hawke nodded at Anders and together they cast a spell, fire mixed with lightning that engulfed Halward in a burst of magical energy. Fenris scrambled away, a trickle of blood from his lip where Halward's fist connected. When the man was finally reduced to nothing but a pile of ash on the carpet, Fenris carefully approached Dorian, kneeling down.

"Are you all right?"

Dorian, sweating, bruised and bloodied from the belt, shook his head. "I most certainly am not! I preferred when I wasn't the target of this… this… whatever this is! Maker's breath, what is going on?" He looked from Fenris to Hawke and Anders.

"We don't know yet," Hawke admitted. "Some kind of powerful dark magic. Probably not a demon."

Dorian looked at the pile of ash that was formerly his father. "He's not… he's nothing like that. We shouted at one another on occasion but that was not…"

"It's all right," Anders was quick to assure him. "None of this is truly real. Everything so far has been some kind of twisted lie."

"We might be sleeping," Hawke suggested. "Sleeping with our bodies elsewhere, like the Fade. If this is the Fade."

"It feels much more real than the Fade," Dorian said, accepting a hand up from Fenris. "What do you think is-" He broke off, falling unconscious.

Fenris caught him before he hit the floor, eyes wide as he looked at Anders for help. "What's going on?"

Anders crossed the room toward them. "I don't know, maybe the shock of-"

"Anders!" Hawke cried out as Anders crumpled to the ground, seemingly asleep. There was a thud as Fenris fell next, Dorian toppling over on him.

Then quite suddenly everything went black.


	19. Hermione Changed Over the Summer: Act 1

"This is getting ridiculous," Hawke said as he woke up.

At least they were back in familiar territory now, sitting in his library. However the last time they found themselves in Kirkwall in this dream-like state it hadn't ended well.

"You're telling me," Fenris muttered. He was sitting next to Hawke, shaking his head.

"There has to be a way out," Anders said, sitting in a chair near the fire. He stood carefully, testing the ground as if he wasn't sure he'd fall through or not. "It feels much more solid than the Fade. More real, as Dorian said."

"The Fade can be extremely tricky," Dorian nodded. He was standing near one of the windows, glancing out. "Thankfully the visions seem to be moving much more quickly now. Hopefully we'll only need to endure this one for a few moments before we're onto the next. Can anyone remember where we were before this started?"

Almost a full minute of silence passed before Fenris looked up. "We left Alexius's house."

"Yes I do remember that," Dorian agreed. "We were heading somewhere."

They thought, trying to concentrate, to remember exactly where they were traveling when they got caught up in this string of visions or hallucinations.

"Servis," Fenris said. "We were going to see him about RTD."

Dorian snapped his fingers and pointed at Fenris. "That's it! This has to be Servis's work. That bastard. He'll pay for this one. Do you hear us, Servis!" he called, looking up at the ceiling. "We are not your puppets!"

"For now it seems we are," Fenris said softly. He stood, looking around room. "It appears normal. Shall we see what-"

The door to the library opened. A beautiful, stunning, gorgeous young girl stepped in. She was tall but not too tall, though she was wearing black stilettos to emphasize her height. Her black silk stockings were lacy and see-through and she wore a tight black leather mini-skirt with a zipper up the side. Her dark, blood-red sweater hung off her shoulders revealing her black bra straps, while her ebony raven hair spilled past her slim waist in loose curls. Her smile put them completely at ease, her eyes changing color from icy blue of swimming pools to a crimson that matched her sweater. She wore a silver necklace with a dragon on it with matching earrings and her rings were just as pretty and very shiny when she clapped her hands together.

"Garrett! You came home!"

"Er," Hawke started, hoping that this wasn't supposed to be his wife. The Fade or vision or whatever was cruel enough to have forced him to kill Anders. Would it be so cruel as to bind him to someone like this?

She flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Silly! Don't you remember your little sister?"

Hawke did in fact remember his little sister but this definitely wasn't Bethany. "Uh."

"It's me! Amelie Rose Natalia Gemma Lydia Sakura Camille Oriana Amell-Hawke!" She then whispered conspiratorially, "Soon to be Rutherford, but don't tell anyone!" and flashed a very expensive-looking diamond ring in his face. "Have you returned from your little trip? Did you know that I saved Kirkwall once more while you were gone? Meredith named me Champion of the city - _again_!"

Hawke looked to Anders then to Fenris, mouth hanging slightly open. "Um. Sorry. Who are you?"

"She said she's your sister," Dorian said flatly. "Charming, isn't she?" He didn't sound charmed at all. In fact, he was looking at her with extreme distaste.

"Don't be so rude, Dorian," Anders rebuffed him. "She's a delight!"

"Maker," Hawke sighed. "Anders, this is a dream vision thing or something. Fade crap. Snap out of it!"

"Hawke, there is no need to be jealous of your sister," Fenris said, taking Amelie's hand. He kissed her knuckles. "Simply because she is a much better mage than you'll ever be, graduating from the Kirkwall Circle at the top of her class with honors. You're just angry because they asked her to be the First Enchantress at age fourteen and they never considered you for the position."

"That's… um." Hawke wasn't sure what to say. The entire thing was just too absurd. "You don't graduate from a Circle," was the only thing his addled brain could produce.

"Well _you_ didn't," Amelie said, patting his cheek. "But that's okay. Just because I was Father's favorite doesn't mean he didn't love you any less. Except for the fact that he always got you and Carver mixed up. But I'm sure that's just an honest mistake!" Amelie pulled her hand away from Fenris. "I know you love me, Fenris, but I am very cross with you."

"That's right," Anders said, approaching. "You're a mage-hater, and Amelie is the Queen of Mages, so there is no way she would ever love someone like you."

Hawke looked at Dorian, mouthing, 'Queen of Mages?' Dorian shrugged, looking just as bewildered.

Fenris scowled. "As if she could ever love an abomination!"

"Boys, now, there's no need to fight," Amelie said, brushing back her long midnight-colored locks. She smiled, her ruby red lips parting to show her perfectly white, straight teeth. "You know I can't be with either of you! I couldn't ever love an abomination who's planning to blow up the Chantry!"

Anders gasped, clutching his chest. "How did you know! That's my secret plan to make you love me!"

"And I couldn't ever love someone who hates mages so much," she said, pouting at Fenris.

Fenris hung his head dejectedly.

Hawke meanwhile got slowly to his feet and edged across the room toward Dorian. "I think we need to kill the weirdo who thinks she's my sister," he said under his breath.

Dorian nodded. "Agreed," he whispered. "Any ideas?"

"Fire and electricity seem tried and true," Hawke suggested.

"On three, then. One… two…"

"What are you two conspiring about over there?" Amelie asked. A black and silver staff appeared instantly in her hand. It was topped by a diamond studded silver dragon's head with a bright purple amethyst eye, and it breathed an orangey red flame.

"Just about how we're going to kill you," Hawke said. "THREE!"

Unfortunately Anders and Fenris, so in love with Amelie that they were, dove in front of the fire and lightning, disappearing when the flames hit them. Amelie shouted in anger, eyes flashing as she whipped her staff around and blew both Hawke and Dorian to pieces.

-

"Now, hopefully you'll behave this time," Amelie said as they came to.

Hawke had better days. Dying and being brought back, or at least thinking he'd died and then been brought back, was very trying. Every muscle ached, every nerve was on fire. And the Maker-damned demon or whatever it was didn't fade away with the rest of the vision. They were in Tevinter again. He recognized Alexius's house, one of the guest bedrooms, and he was pinned to the wall. Anders and Fenris were on either side of him in the same state. Dorian was lying spread eagle in bed, wrists pinned to the mattress. He was apparently naked, at least to the waist, a sheet drawn up to his hips.

Amelie stood in the center of the room wearing a black leather corset and stockings, the same stilettos on her feet, and she was brandishing a riding crop. Her hair was tied back, her bangs covering her forehead. Her eyes were painted in black kohl, lips still very red. "His father tried so hard, but it was I, Amelie Rose Natalia Gemma Lydia-"

"Oh shut up!" Hawke groaned.

She huffed and climbed atop Dorian. "You're cured now, aren't you? Tell me how much you love me and you want to be with me." She drew the tip of the riding crop down the side of his face.

Dorian looked as if he was going to be ill, his face pale and sweating. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "Yes."

Amelie shifted, lying down next to him, head propped on a fist. "See, Dorian only just needed to find the _right_ woman and he would be fine! Tell them, Dor-Dor."

"Yes," Dorian said, though he looked like he was fighting very hard not to vomit. "I… cannot wait… to… put my penis… into… your… vagin-" He broke off, looking at the three of them with wide, pleading eyes. "Andraste's flaming pyre, _HELP ME!_ "

The door burst open.

"Thank the Maker," Dorian breathed in relief.

Felix was there, looking livid. He pointed at Amelie. "You! Get away from my lover!"

"What?" Dorian asked, panting. "Felix, what are you talking about?"

"You and me, Dorian! We're meant to be together! Any fool can see that, and she's gone and tried to ruin you! Harlot!" He spat on the floor. "I challenge you to a duel for Dorian!"

"I will win!" Amelie declared, hopping to stand on the bed.

Dorian looked over at Fenris. "Can you move? Maker, please tell me one of you can move."

They struggled but to no avail. 

Amelie executed a perfect front flip off the bed, landing in a cat-like crouch. Felix threw himself at her and they grappled. Dorian, finally able to move, rolled out of bed quickly, the sheet slipping to the floor, revealing his naked body. He started to cross the room to try to free the other three when Amelie and Felix slammed into him. They couldn't do anything but watch as Dorian flailed and fell backward through the window, plummeting several stories to his death.


	20. Hermione Changed Over the Summer: Act 2

"Well. Shit," Amelie said, looking out the window. She turned back to the others. "I guess I just have to pick one of you three now to play with."

Felix, who was staring out the window in shock and horror, screamed as Amelie shoved him through after Dorian. Hawke struggled hard against the spell that kept him pinned to the wall and to his relief he broke free.

"Hey, you can't do that!" Amelie protested.

Hawke grabbed up a fire poker and without hesitating, thrust it clean through Amelie's torso. She jerked once, opening her mouth, a bubble of blood working its way past her lips before spilling down her chin. Long fingers with nails painted black grasped the iron poker and she fell backward, spasming on the floor like a fish out of water. Fenris and Anders, finally free from whatever spell kept them pinned, stepped forward to watch the unnecessarily dramatic and horribly prolonged death.

"Well. How the fuck do we get out of here?" Hawke asked, after she stopped moving.

Then as if his question prompted another shift, the three of them collapsed to the floor once more.

-

Fenris clutched his head, a heavy, unrelenting pounding just behind his eyes. He tried to remind himself that this wasn't real, that none of it could be real. They'd all lived and died and lived again several times, and each time the situation escalated into something more ridiculous but somehow even more dire than before. It was culminating into something, but whatever it was, he couldn't even begin to guess. Someone who wanted to torture them before killing them? Physical pain he could handle. This mental anguish, watching his friends die over and over, this was something else entirely. He wished for it to end.

"There, there," Hawke said, sounding horribly awkward and rather distressed.

Fenris looked up, only now just realizing where they were. An opulent bathroom with marble tile, silver fixtures, and a copper and porcelain tub in the center of the room. Another Tevinter estate, perhaps? He couldn't quite place the architecture. But that was secondary to the problem. Dorian sat in the half-empty tub, knees drawn up tight, and he was sobbing uncontrollably. Fenris went to his side at once, kneeling down to look at him.

"Dorian?"

"I… I… I am s-so… s-so, sa-saaaaaaad!" Dorian sobbed, unable to catch his breath. He hiccupped twice and sniffed, burying his forehead against his knees.

Though Fenris was initially worried, it seemed this anguish was caused not by any real distress, but by some fabrication of whatever was keeping them in these visions. He looked to Anders. "Can you assist him?"

Anders pursed his lips and shook his head. "He's been like this for about two or three minutes now, since we arrived, before you woke up."

Black lines of kohl ran down Dorian's cheeks, his hair was mussed, and he looked a horrible mess. "I-I tra-tri-tried to ta-talk to-" He broke off with a wail.

"See?" Hawke said. "He'll get about halfway and then just-" He winced as Dorian moaned again and dunked his head under the water. Hawke sighed and pulled him back up. "He tried to drown himself before, too."

Fenris scowled. If Dorian had been in any real state of distress he would've been much more patient with him. Now they simply didn't have time for this. "Dorian!"

Dorian's head snapped up, though he continued to sob, breath hitching almost comically, sudsy water sliding over his skin. "HE BROKE UP WITH MEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Well that answers that… sort of," Anders said, sighing.

"Not even Bethany was this bad," Hawke lamented. "Thirteen years old and had her first big heartbreak. Cried herself to sleep and everything but sweet Maker, he is dramatic, isn't he?"

"It's the spell," Fenris insisted. Dorian would likely be mortified to be seen in such a state. "Blood magic, no doubt. Some type of mind control. If the magister is doing this-"

"It makes sense," Anders agreed. "None of us are acting the way we should. It seems we're being pulled by invisible strings. Puppeteers."

"Bad puppeteers," Hawke added. "Ones who insist on making us act like fools."

"We need to find a way to break the hold," Anders said. He picked up a razor blade and pressed it into his palm, then winced as the blood pooled. "Physical inflictions don't seem to be the key. Perhaps it's random."

The door opened; the three of them turned to look. The Iron Bull marched in, followed by Karl and someone Fenris knew only by name until that moment.

"Flemeth!" Hawke exclaimed, sounding relieved. "This is great! Tell me you're here to help us!"

Anders, however, was wary. "Karl… what are you doing here?"

"Help you, my dear boy?" Flemeth chuckled. "Oh no. No not at all. We're not here to help you." She smiled, revealing rather pointed teeth, her yellow eyes flashing dangerously.

Iron Bull laughed, punching a fist into his open palm. "Nope. Not here to help at all." He flexed menacingly, eye narrowed as he looked at them as if he were a predator and they his prey.

"Then…" Hawke started, slowly backing away.

Karl smiled serenely, eyes fixed on Anders. "Why ever would you think we're here to help?" he asked softly.

Flemeth took a step forward. "We're here to do something much, much worse," she purred, then licked her lips.

Hawke stepped in front of both Anders and Fenris, shoving them back, away from the three insane newcomers. "If anyone has any ideas, don't keep quiet, all right?" He glanced around the room, trying to look for another exit, but the only one was the door their three soon-to-be attackers came through.

The water in the tub sloshed. "I figured it out!" Dorian said, suddenly lucid and very much in control of himself. "I know how to get out of here!"

"Don't keep us in the dark!" Hawke shouted as Bull, Flemeth, and Karl closed in on them.

A bright ball of blue flame engulfed Dorian, killing him instantly. The same flame suddenly took hold of Hawke, Fenris, and Anders, and the last thing Fenris saw before he died was Flemeth pulling off her leather bodice.


	21. Hermione Changed Over the Summer: Act 3

While he would normally be enthusiastic to study this type of magic, Anders simply found himself wanting to go home. Justice swirled in his soul. It was so odd how clearly he felt him, hearing his thoughts separate from his own, rather than overlapping or not at all. Whatever Sebastian did to him, forcing him into the Fade like that, it changed him. Them. He lay still a moment, a very soft mattress beneath him, like sinking into a cloud.

_"We are in danger,"_ Justice advised.

Anders knew he shouldn't be getting comfortable, but he kept his eyes closed for just a moment longer, thinking. Whoever was keeping them here was trying to disparage them. More than likely trying to keep them from reaching Servis's stronghold. Which meant that Servis was probably watching them now, controlling their actions and thoughts. Anders was determined to get answers from the magister, but first they needed to figure out how to get out of their current predicament.

A warm body shifted next to him, his first thought that it was Hawke. He breathed a sigh of relief, sat up and reached out to touch his shoulder. The man rolled over and Anders immediately leapt back, crying out in shock. The noise disturbed the other occupants of the room who were all lying in heaps on the floor in varying states of undress. The man in bed with him was not Hawke. It wasn't even Karl or anyone he would remotely entertain the idea of sleeping with. In fact, Justice had _killed_ Ser Otto Alrik, so the man shouldn't have even been alive, let alone looking at him with a sick sort of satisfaction on his face.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Alrik purred. "Now that you don't have those pesky ideas in your head anymore."

Anders' eyes widened as Alrik reached up and touched his forehead. He felt the scar tissue there, the Chantry's sunburst. Panic set in but just for a moment. He could still _feel_ which meant he wasn't Tranquil. He could still touch his magic and Justice. Still, the implications of the sunburst brand, Alrik clearly naked in bed, and the other templars curled up on the floor – he shook his head, feeling Justice's swirling anger inside him.

"No. This isn't real," Anders whispered. He needed to get away. He needed to find Hawke and the others.

"Of course it is," Alrik said, and reached out to pull him back down to bed.

Remembering suddenly how Dorian was able to release them from their previous vision, Anders concentrated his mana inward the way he would when he healed himself. Instead of the wash of blue energy, he conjured a fireball. The immolation spell took hold and the room went up in a burst of flame, Alrik and the other templars screaming in agony as they all burned to death. Anders' last, vicious thought as he died was that he was glad they suffered too.

-

Fenris woke, groggy and sluggish as if he'd been drugged. He lay very still, breathing heavily through a cloud of smoke and ash that existed only in his dreams. The previous vision was still burning brightly in his mind, the sight of Dorian setting himself on fire to escape and extending that spell to the others. Locked in some sort of blood magic conjuration, he was sure of it, they would be mentally tormented until they broke. If it was Servis – and the evidence strongly supported that – he would rip the magister limb from bloody limb. The thought of wrapping the wolf's jaws around the man's neck was what pushed him to full consciousness, eager to escape.

Something felt extremely wrong with his body. He opened his eyes and leaned up to look. The blanket covering him was unusually lumpy and with a shaking hand, he pulled the covers back. It took him several moments to register what he was seeing, and to his horror he registered the fact that his body's basic physiology had changed entirely. The lyrium lines were still there though stretched now over a pair of generous breasts and a very large bulge in his abdomen. He watched in fear and revulsion as the skin of his stomach moved, feeling something kicking inside him. His initial reaction was to cut it out, that it must be some kind of parasite. Swallowing back his anxiety, he sat up, feeling off-balance, and saw a shining dagger on the nightstand.

"No," he whispered. Not the thing inside him, but himself.

Having no magic to self-immolate the way Dorian had, this was the only way to do it. He supposed he could have reached inside his own chest and pulled out his heart, but the dagger surely would be less painful. Grabbing it quickly before he lost his nerve, he plunged the silverite blade into himself, and died.

-

The intense burning heat faded as Hawke drifted from one consciousness to the next. He closed his eyes in that bathroom, panicking and unsure what to do. When he opened them, he recognized the inside of the Viscount's office in Kirkwall. He was starting to hate waking up in Kirkwall, though he did love his city. The crown on his head, however, was something he could definitely do without. He took it off, inspected it, and his worse fears (at least in regards to politics) were confirmed. In this hallucination or whatever the flames it was, he was the Viscount.

This suspicion was confirmed when Seneschal Bran entered the room, carrying a tray laden with a light breakfast and a stack of letters. "Good morning, Viscount. I have your correspondence and your coffee."

"Ahuh, thanks Bran," Hawke said, watching him put the tray down. His stomach churned and not even the coffee appealed to him. He needed to get out of here and find the others.

"And Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven is here to see you. Shall I send him in?"

After everything that happened in Starkhaven with Sebastian, the last thing Hawke wanted was to see the man. "Sure."

Bran gave a half-bow and called Sebastian inside, then left the office, closing the doors behind him.

"Good to see you again, Viscount," Sebstian said. He was dressed in gleaming white plate metal, a bow strapped to his back. "Are you ready to go hunting?"

"Er. Hunting?" Was he on good terms with this monster in this reality, then?

"I hear the game is good today. Meredith's released six mages for us to hunt down in the woods just outside Kirkwall. I hear that one abomination – Anders? Is with them."

A cold fury washed over Hawke. Any curiosity he had for this vision died instantly. "Nope," he said simply.

And then set himself ablaze.


	22. No Longer Tuesday: Act 1

The four of them woke together on a cold, hard stone floor, each more relieved than the last to see one another. They exchanged embraces, ensuring they were all alright. Hawke hugged Fenris tightly, then Anders, and even drew Dorian in for one as well.

"All right, that's enough of that," Dorian said, though he looked pleased despite himself.

"Well now what?" Hawke said, looking around.

The room was entirely empty save for a battered wooden throne and its occupant, a bald elf looking amused but bored, one leg draped idly over the arm. "You four are no longer playing the game properly." He sighed and stood, vanishing the chair with a lazy wave of his hand before looking them over. "I suppose it is time that we talk."

They stared a moment, the implication of the elf's presence slowly turning into realization that _he_ was the one who put them through the visions. Fenris moved first, leaping forward to throttle and likely kill the strange elf, but Hawke grabbed him hard around the middle, yanking him back.

"Let go of me, Hawke," Fenris said, his tone deadly calm, his glare fixed on the other elf.

"How about we get explanations first before we start in with the attempted murder?" Hawke returned, definitely not letting him go despite the struggling.

"He doesn't deserve a chance to explain," Fenris growled.

Through this argument the elf remained impassive, hands tucked behind his back, watching carefully.

"You're no simple mage, are you?" Anders asked, cutting across Fenris and Hawke. He glanced at Dorian who nodded in agreement, then back to the elf. "Are you working for Servis?"

"He doesn't carry the scent of blood magic," Dorian said, finally stepping forward. He put a hand Fenris's shoulder, helping to calm him.

Fenris still seethed but stopped struggling against Hawke. He continued to glare, fists clenched, as if he could simply will the other elf dead. But Dorian was right – though strange, it did not smell of blood magic. 

Hawke nodded, satisfied for now and turned to look at their host. "Well," he said, "start talking. Or we might just forgo explanations and get straight to the killing." Though he spoke confidently, he was both impressed and terrified of this being in front of him. They'd speculated blood magic, that Servis was playing with them, but something felt very off here.

The elf frowned. "My name is Solas. You stumbled across the wards of a magister and were sucked into a world of dreams."

"But it's not the Fade?" Anders guessed.

"Something close enough to it," Solas agreed. "A world between worlds. However, where we are is not as important as where you are going."

"We're _going_ to kill Servis," Hawke said. "Or beat him rather badly until he tells us where the magister is. We know Servis is working for him."

"That much is true," Solas confirmed. "He has a power that he doesn't understand, and is using it to destroy this world."

"Because what else would you do with that much power?" Hawke grumbled. "All right. Well, tell us then what your role is in all this. Are you working for him?"

"And what are you precisely?" Dorian added. "An elf, that's obvious, but you're not just a mage, are you?" He looked to Fenris who nodded, sensing the odd magical aura as well.

"That is good enough to be going on with," Solas said delicately. "Like you, I am trapped here." He gestured around the empty room. "Though I have considerably more power, I am still a prisoner. There is an artifact, an orb of elven construct that the magister you seek now possesses. I believe his magic is amplified by this orb, allowing him to perform near impossible feats of necromancy. I further believe he has unlocked the key to immortality."

Hawke frowned. "You're saying RTD is immortal?"

Solas's expression turned contemplative. "More or less. The orb would need to be recovered before he can be removed from power."

"Why should we trust you?" Fenris demanded to know.

"He's got a point," Hawke said. "You _did_ put us through torture. _More or less_."

"I apologize. I needed to ensure that you would be able to withstand the power that the magister is able to wield. Several have come before you and failed. To allow them through the gates would be tantamount to allowing them to commit suicide. You four have managed to show admirable power and tenacity in navigating my tests."

"You could've just asked us," Hawke scoffed. "It's not like we haven't gone up against the impossible before."

"As you say," Solas relented. "However I thought it would be beneficial to test you all the same."

Fenris was still quite willing to put this elf in his place, to show him exactly what they were all capable of. He was about as fond of the Fade as the next person, and the visions that they saw went beyond the typical demonic interference. "You humiliated us. You made us believe things no demon would." He was livid and wanted to cut down this mage or whatever he was. Not even Dorian's hand on his shoulder could quell the rage he felt.

"A necessary precaution."

"What a load of nugshit," Anders muttered, turning away. He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, having to take several deep, calming breaths. Thankfully there were no signs of blue cracks in his skin.

"It was incredibly inappropriate," Dorian agreed. "Though I think that for all our sakes we should move on and focus on what needs to be done now." He looked at Solas. "You'll release us so we can find Servis and tear him limb from limb." It was not a request, but a polite demand.

"You will get no further until the orb is recovered," Solas assured them. "It is more powerful than you realize. He will have it hidden and well-guarded. Once it's released and returned to me, I promise to tell you the location of the magister you seek."

"RTD," Hawke stated.

"Yes."

Hawke looked from Solas to the others. Though there was much animosity in the agreement that they assist Solas who put them through so much, it was still the best lead they had in getting to Servis and RTD.

"All right," Hawke said. "We're in."

"I shall meet you again once you have the orb in hand," Solas said. "I wish you luck."

He disappeared, leaving a set of double wooden doors along one of the walls.

Hawke looked at the doors, then to the others. "Well," he said, "who's going first?"


	23. No Longer Tuesday: Act 2

The door led to a long, high-ceilinged corridor reminiscent of the old Tevinter estates. The second they all stepped through the magic that created it crumbled, leaving nothing but a bare wall behind them. Hawke inhaled sharply, staff in hand, and took point. This was technically his task, what he'd been working toward for so long. Regardless of the fact that Fenris was with him, he felt like he'd begun this journey from the first days that his father took him on hunts. Fenris eased the pain of loss and now with Anders by his side and even Dorian, he had a strong feeling of completion. They would end this together. The corridor stretched on, tall windows on one side, doors on the other.

"Where do you think it is?" Hawke asked, glancing at them. "An orb chained up."

"Cellar," Fenris said at once. "It would be the cellar. Or a vault, perhaps."

Dorian nodded. "These old Tevinter houses were built similarly. Under the estate should be the servants' quarters. Secret passages running the length of the rooms. If we can find an entrance, it will be easy enough to find the vaults."

They turned a corner and stopped. An elf stood a few feet in front of them. His dark skin marked him as Rivaini or perhaps Antivan, black hair tied back into a short ponytail. He wore a white uniform with a silver dancing dragon, colorful and glittering gems embroidered around the dragon's feet. Yellow, cat-light eyes narrowed and watched them carefully, waiting.

"Er. Hello?" Hawke asked awkwardly. "Sorry for crashing your house but we're looking for the magister-"

Beside him, Fenris groaned, but it wasn't as if Hawke could have said anything else.

"Magister Servis is aware of your presence already. You interrupted his meal."

"And I can't tell you how sorry we are for that," Dorian said sarcastically. "Now is he going to meet with us or not?"

The elf gestured for them to follow, then turned and walked away. They exchanged looks with one another, all silently debating. However, with nowhere else to go and with Servis likely watching their every move, they decided that following the elf was the best move for now. They walked two flights of stairs, the house decorated lavishly with works of art and marble statues.

"Likely could open a museum," Dorian muttered. "I'm betting this is barely a portion of what he's hoarded."

"It is," the elf said, catching Dorian's words. "Unfortunately you won't be seeing the rest."

"Is Servis going to kill us?" Hawke said. "Because after the day I've had, I'm sort of tired of dying."

"In here," the elf ordered, opening a door which led to a grand ball room.

Fenris looked inside first, not seeing any other exits save for the windows that led to balconies. "We could kill him and continue on our way," he suggested.

"I wouldn't do that," came a voice filtering magically through the house. "You see I'm quite fond of Silvius and if anything happens to him, you'll pay tenfold."

"Nice to see you again!" Hawke called. "Or not, as the case may be. Too much of a coward to face us?"

"Coward?" Servis laughed. "If you wish to call me that, I take no issue with it, Champion of Kirkwall. Facing you, your guard dog, a vampire, and a spirit abomination in my own home when I don't have to? I am a great many things, Champion, but I am not foolish."

"So what then?" Dorian asked. "Going to lock us in a hall and kill us there? Just tell us where RTD is and we'll go about our way."

Servis _tsk_ ed. "No, I think not. You're much more use to him alive. You see, he likes creating new things and I'm sure he can think of one or two things to create from you. But just in case you needed some persuasion…"

The marble statues sprang to life, closing in on them much more quickly than constructs made of marble should have been able to move. Silvius slipped out of the way and disappeared, leaving the four of them to either try to fight back or to step into the hall. They chose the latter, Hawke pulling them back. They would need their strength to fight RTD when they faced him.

"Good, you're smarter than you look. Which I must say is rather impressive." The doors shut. "Now, let's have a little fun first before I bring you before him. Callisto, show our guests a good time."

A trap door raised in the floor, lifting with it a beautiful young woman with long, curly blond hair. She wore an alabaster dress trimmed in gold, and smiled at them serenely.

"What are you going to do, seduce us?" Hawke asked with a wry laugh. "Because I gotta tell you, sweetheart, this is the wrong group to try that on."

She didn't say anything, black eyes widening as her smile grew more feral. It widened beyond her lips, face transforming slowly, nose elongating, hair shortening into bristly golden-brown fur until it covered her entire body. She grew larger, tripling in size, and let out a ferocious roar.

"That's definitely more effective," Hawke said. "Plans? Exit strategies?"

"Fenris!" Dorian shouted as Fenris transformed.

He stood in front of the three mages, hackles raised, teeth bared. Though enormous for a wolf, the bear dwarfed him easily and both animals stared at one another, daring the other to take the first leap.

"Our only way out is back through the doors," Anders said, gripping Hawke's arm, pulling him away from the impending fight.

"Could try a window," Hawke suggested.

"Four stories up?" Dorian asked.

"Right. Well. We can hope they didn't lock the door behind them-"

"Or we can just blast it apart," Dorian interrupted Hawke. "It's such an ugly color red anyway."

"Agreed," Anders said quickly.

"Fenris," Hawke said, hoping that Callisto the bear couldn't understand him as well, "evasive maneuvers my friend."

Fenris growled. At a mental count of three, he rushed forward bolstered by a haste spell and protected by a shield from one of the mages. Callisto roared, shaking the windows and ran to meet him. They leapt and collided, Fenris feeling the full impact of the bear against him as he hit the floor and rolled. He heard Dorian's protests, hoping Hawke and Anders ensured he didn't stop to help. In his wolf form he was very quick, and the bear wasn't nearly as agile as he was. 

He ducked as it swiped a paw the size of a chevalier's shield at his head. Leading the bear on a chase around the room was easy, ducking again to keep out of its way. Then, the sound he was waiting for – an explosion that rocked the room. He glanced toward the doors which were blown wide open and smoking, and ran full force again at the bear. This time, however, he lowered his front paws, sliding between the bear's legs in a rather comedic skid and raced from the room, following the other three.

They made room for him to go first, leading the way. However without a scent of the orb to go on, Fenris had no idea where to head. He tried to recall the smell of the other elf, Solas, the one who advised them to find the orb and free its power. Concentrating while running for his life was difficult, but he caught it and raced on. Behind them he heard the heavy footfalls, the loud roar of the shapeshifter. Another of RTD's experiments like Felix? How many more would they find? He needed to be stopped once and for all.

Lungs burning for air, knowing the humans behind him wouldn't be able to keep up, Fenris transformed quickly to relay information. "Downstairs. It's below us. Go!"

"What about you?" Dorian asked, panicked.

Fenris shoved him back. "I'll distract it and meet you in the servants' quarters. Go!"

"I'm not going to just leave you!"

Hawke grabbed Dorian's arm. "Fenris can take care of himself-"

Dorian yanked his arm away. "He's not some lamb to the slaughter!"

The bear rounded the corner. Fenris transformed back into his wolf form and head-butted Dorian hard in the stomach. Caught off guard, Dorian stumbled, Hawke grabbing him again. Anders cast one last spell of protection around Fenris as Fenris turned to face the bear. He heard the humans shouting, but ignored them and let out a long howl, catching the bear's attention. Then more bravely than he felt, he raced in the opposite direction, glad when the bear followed him and left the mages to find the servants' quarters.

He reached the balcony they crossed when Silvius brought them upstairs. The drop was far but he was sure the bear would follow. Hoping for minimal injuries, he leapt the marble railing and soared through the air, plummeting to the floor below. His stomach dropped with the sensation and as he landed he transformed, absorbing the shock with his lyrium lines, activating them and phasing into his ghost form. The bear followed, unable to slow its descent. The second it surrounded him Fenris solidified himself, exploding the bear from the inside out.

Pieces of flesh and fur and bone flew in all directions. Fenris, covered in blood and gore, remained in a crouching position, every nerve on fire, every muscle screaming in pain. He dropped to all fours, then fell to his side, breathing hard. He knew he was vulnerable now, that he would need to move quickly before Servis realized his shapeshifter failed and that they'd been separated.

"Stupid puppy," said a voice above him.

"That," Hawke growled, "is my line."

Dorian scoffed and knelt down, handkerchief out, wiping at Fenris's face. "As if we'd let you go alone."

"As if you'd really think I would've let you go alone," Hawke said, arms crossed. "Always had to be the noble one, huh? Sacrifice yourself and all that rubbish. We're in this together."

Fenris glanced up to see the three mages above him. "Told you to run."

"We don't listen very well," Anders said. "Up you get."

They helped him to his feet and with a rejuvenation potion Fenris felt mostly recovered. Hawke relieved one of the windows of its curtains and helped him to wipe the majority of the blood from his hair and armor.

"When we get back to Alexius's," Dorian said, as the four of them made haste to the servants' quarters, "you are taking a hundred baths."

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Hawke returned, grinning.

Dorian scowled. "If I wanted a lover of the unwashed sort, I would have chosen you. No offense, Anders."

Anders shook his head, exchanging a look with Fenris, who couldn't help but smile just a bit.


	24. No Longer Tuesday: Act 3

As they suspected, the room containing the orb was in a vault beyond the servants' quarters. Servis must have assumed the bear would take care of them, vastly underestimating their chances of surviving. Perhaps Solas was right in testing them before allowing them into the estate. If any others had come through, they might not have made it out alive. Regardless of what Servis thought he seemed to have left them to their own devices and they suffered no interruptions as they approached the orb in the vault.

"Such a small thing for all that fuss," Dorian noted.

Hawke nodded. It was roughly the same size of his head, just a black metal ball sitting on a pedestal. He stepped forward but Anders grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "What?"

"Wards," Anders warned him, gesturing to the floor. "Powerful ones."

Dorian knelt to examine them, removed his staff, and pressed the end of it over the rune line. Electricity crackled up around the orb, a five foot radius of magical energy keeping them at bay. "Extremely powerful," he confirmed. "It could take some time to remove them all."

"We don't have much choice," Hawke said. "Look, this isn't my uh… it's not my area."

"No surprise there," Dorian said lightly, smirking. "Luckily you are in the presence of someone who had a superior education and can – Ah. Anders?"

Anders' skin started to glow blue, and Dorian and Fenris moved away from him. "It's fine," Anders assured them, his voice a polyphony of his own and something much deeper, much more far away. "Justice will help."

Hawke frowned. "Anders, I don't think this is such a good idea."

Anders turned to him, one of his eyes bright blue, the other a honey brown. When he smiled, it was somehow reassuring and unnerving, sheer power radiating off him as he reached up to cup Hawke's cheek. "Do not worry. We are fine."

Dorian, whose own fingers were digging sharply into Fenris's arm, watched intently as Anders stepped forward through the wards. Hawke gaped. The magical wards pulsed angrily, as if they were livid that something had circumvented them so easily. Anders picked up the orb in both hands and stepped out of the radius of the wards, which calmed as soon as they no longer felt the interference. Anders blinked, the cracks in his skin smoothing over, leaving behind unmarred flesh. His eyes were the last to go back to normal and he smiled as he held up the orb.

"Easier than tearing down the wards," he said to three wide-eyed companions.

"Brilliant indeed," Solas said, appearing just outside the vault. He held his hand out for the orb.

They turned toward him and Hawke spoke first. "First you tell us where RTD is."

"That was the deal," Solas agreed, stepping aside for them to exit the vault. He kept his eyes on the orb. "You will find your way to him at the top of this stronghold amidst the collection that Servis has amassed."

"And where is Servis?" Hawke demanded.

"Fled this place. He will go to his master's side, no doubt. I will ensure he does not return as an extra favor for you."

"All right," Hawke said. "Good." He waved at Anders who handed the orb to Solas. "Wait," he said to Solas, who was holding the orb reverently. "Since you said RTD is immortal, do you know how to kill him?"

Solas smiled enigmatically. "Yes," he said, and disappeared in a blink.

"Asshole," Hawke muttered. He sighed, then looked at the other three. "At least we have time to look around and find whatever will take us to RTD without Servis getting in our way. Let's check out his office first. Maybe there's something there on how to handle this guy."

They agreed, Hawke leading the way with Anders, who he glanced sidelong at, still worried.

"I'm fine," Anders said, reaching out, letting his fingertips slide down Hawke's arm. "I told you, Justice and I… we changed. I can hear him now and when he offers to help, I can control it. It's as if we're entirely in sync with one another."

"You have to know how bloody unnerving that is for me," Hawke said. "Sure it's helpful but seeing it…"

Anders took his hand and squeezed. "He's going to help us. He understands the importance of the mission."

"Right. Well. And you're… fine? Not tired or anything?"

"I think it's easier now that I'm no longer fighting him. It's like figuring out a puzzle. Forcing the pieces into one spot doesn't work but when you find how they fit together, things connect smoothly. We're no longer trying to fight each other for the same space, the same consciousness. No longer two sides of one coin."

"Not sure if that explains anything or makes it more convoluted," Hawke admitted. "As long as you promise it doesn't hurt."

"The transition was smoother, more than it's ever been. And I remembered it all. We helped each other. I promise you, this is quite good." Anders laughed lightly, feeling energized rather than drained as he normally would have after transforming.

"All right. If you're sure," Hawke said, though he couldn't help the concern in his tone.

"Maker's breath," Dorian cut in. "You worry more than Alexius does."

Fenris nudged him gently and shook his head. "Let it be."

They fell silent as they searched the house, locating Servis's office which was broken into with a bit of magic and force. Hawke sat at the large desk, fingers searching for any hidden catches, anything that would conceal information about RTD.

"Or," Dorian said, turning around a heavy ledger, "we could just check this. Hm. A bit on Solas. 'One elf, mage.' It's listed right here along with some rather vague information. 'Self-taught, very powerful. Powers linked to the orb.'" He flipped a few pages as Anders read over his shoulder. "Nothing specific on his boss, though."

They spent only a few more minutes canvassing the room, coming up with little other than lists and descriptions of artifacts recovered from various excavations across Thedas. They found said artifacts once they left the study, the majority of the estate appearing to be little more than storage for the things Servis acquired.

"Maker's breath, what does he do with it all?" Hawke asked, examining a diamond-studded tiara.

"I told you," Dorian said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Magpie. His amassed wealth is likely rather impressive, though a lot of this is simply…"

"Junk," Hawke said, nudging over a crate with his boot. The contents spilled out, several dozen books with dusty covers, and three pairs of trousers, all torn in various places. "Why doesn't he just throw it out?"

"I expect you'll want to ask him."

Hawke smirked at Dorian. "If I ever see him again, I'd rather give him a good kick up the-"

"There's a secret door here," Fenris said, cutting him off. He pulled hard on a gargoyle's head which sat on a marble mantelpiece. The fireplace rotated perpendicular to the wall, revealing a passageway. "Stairs leading up."

"Solas did say to go up," Hawke said, lighting the tip of his staff and leading the way. "I really hope none of this junk Servis collected decides to become sentient and eat our faces."

"Now that you've said that, it definitely will," Fenris sighed.

"You really ought to know better," Dorian agreed.

Hawke frowned and looked at Anders. "You're not going to defend me?"

Anders shrugged, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. "It's true, though."

Hawke grumbled. "I hope it eats you first," he said without any real conviction, and climbed the stairs.

At the top was one lone door which creaked ominously as they opened it. Inside the room was dark, but the light from Hawke's staff illuminated the space enough for them to see as they stepped cautiously inside. The room was empty, not even a rug on the floor, save for one tall piece of furniture at the far end, covered by a dusty drop cloth. They approached with trepidation.

"Well, there is only one way to find out," Dorian said, head tilted as he looked at it.

"Go right ahead," Hawke offered.

"If we wait for you two to debate this, we'll be here all day." Fenris reached out and pulled the cloth away, all four of them jumping back, ready to fight the previously discussed sentient artifact. "It's… a mirror."

The gilded mirror stood a good eight feet tall, wide as two men standing abreast. The only decoration was at its top, a pattern of swirling leaves. It looked old, antique, the gold tarnished, but the surface was intact. Curious, Hawke reached out and touched it, startling when the glass vanished suddenly. It no longer reflected the empty room, but appeared to be a passageway into another.

"That's… weird." Hawke glanced around behind the mirror, but found nothing. "So," he said, looking at the others, "who wants to step through the freaky portal mirror first?"


	25. White Rabbit: Act 1

"That was a good throw!"

Fenris sighed at Hawke's enthusiasm. They'd taken to tossing bits of Servis's collection through the mirror to ensure it was safe. While books and trinkets survived the journey, piling up on the other side of wherever the mirror led, there was no way to tell if anything alive could pass through safely. They had no other options though, unless they were to backtrack through the estate and try to leave by the front door. And that truly was not an option.

"We are wasting time," he muttered, and pushed himself away from the wall. Before any of the others could protest, he transformed into the wolf and leapt through where the glass should have been. He heard Hawke shouting but ignored him, pawing the ground, testing it. The air smelled no different to him than any other place they'd been, though there was definitely a heavy ambience of magic. With it, he caught traces of blood and oddly enough, saltwater. He transformed back and looked at the mirror. "I believe it's safe."

One by one they stepped through, Hawke berating him by way of a sharp shove for his recklessness. Fenris merely shook his head before he gripped Hawke's arm reassuringly. They were in an antechamber of sorts, a small room with one long spiral staircase made of iron leading up past a marble ceiling.

"Odd magic," Anders said, taking his staff in hand. "It's heavy here. As if this whole place is made of it, rather than stone." He carefully palmed the wall and his skin crackled with blue energy. "Lyrium threaded into the mortar."

"And blood," Dorian added distastefully, causing Anders to quickly pull away as if burned. "Definitely the work of a deranged mage."

"One deranged enough to reanimate the dead for his own purposes?" Hawke asked.

"I dislike the idea of having to trust that elf's word," Dorian said, frowning, "but it does seem like we're on the right track."

Before they could debate further, a loud grinding noise filled the room. Dust fell from the walls as they began to slowly close in on them.

"What in the name of Andraste-" Dorian started, but cut off as Fenris grabbed the front of his robes and pulled.

"Questions for later!" Fenris urged as they quickly raced for the stairs.

The spiral design made it difficult to ascend quickly, Hawke bringing up the rear as the walls continued to move with no signs of stopping. The screeching of stone on iron sounded as the walls crushed the staircase, Fenris grabbing Hawke's arm and hauling him up the last few steps just in time.

"So much for having an exit plan," Hawke said, panting. "Maker, it's hot in here. Where are we?"

They looked around the small room, immediately on edge once again as one of the walls started to move, but away from them. It slid back then sank into the floor to reveal a long corridor of molten lava. Perhaps a hundred feet away they could see another small room like the one they were in, and a door that looked like their only way out. Metal platforms moved silently over the lava, left and right, backward and forward, and one that was floating up and down.

"Strange magic," Anders said.

"There's a pool of lava and all you can think of is that there's strange magic?" Hawke asked incredulously. "That explains the heat at least. What do we do now?"

"It seems the magister is toying with us," Fenris said, carefully approaching the edge of the room, looking down. "It is not much of a drop. Were it water instead."

"But we're not dealing with water. Oh no, we get to deal with _lava_." Hawke scowled. "Well. Any ideas? I don't know any spells to float us – FENRIS!"

Fenris leapt to the first platform, landing in a steady crouch. "I will see if there is a switch of some sort on the other side."

"You're going to get yourself killed!" Dorian admonished. "Stop playing the hero. We can figure out-"

"If I die, you may say, 'I told you so'," Fenris said, and leapt to the second platform.

Dorian glared at Hawke. "This is your bloody influence, you know that."

Hawke crossed his arms. "No. He was always this stubborn."

"Birds of a feather," Anders muttered.

They watched as Fenris nimbly leapt from platform to platform. He nearly missed one, teetering on the edge, arms flailing before he fell forward to his knees. Clearing the last, he tucked into a roll before getting to his feet and waved to let them know he was all right. A moment later it seemed he found a switch, as the platforms stopped moving. More extended from the walls, creating a bridge over the lava.

"Well that's not so bad," Hawke said, and led the way.

A burst of flame spouted from the wall, almost catching him on the arm. With a surprised shout, he dropped to his stomach before another could erupt and a barrier formed over him.

"Move fast!" Anders ordered.

The jets of flame continued in regular intervals but the barrier held as the three of them crawled their way across the bridge, sweating as the heat bore down on them from all sides until finally they reached the far end of the room.

"That was utterly ridiculous!" Dorian exclaimed, removing the top layer of his robes. He tossed the singed fabric aside and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Let's move on before we all die of heat exhaustion."

Worried as to what else this strange place would have in store for them, but with no other option than to move forward, they left the lava-filled room behind them.

-

"We've gone from extreme heat to extreme cold. Wonderful." Dorian's sarcasm was thick, but so too was the snow and ice in the room they found themselves in.

"At least there aren't any moving platforms over pits of lava," Hawke noted.

Anders removed his coat and pauldrons, handing them to Dorian. "Go on. I'm all right."

"I always said that feathers were fashionable," Dorian said, eagerly pulling them on. "Nice fit, as well. Perhaps we should talk wardrobe once we get out of this mad house."

Anders smirked before turning back to the room to assess. "There might be gaps in the snow. We should be careful." He peered up at the ceiling, or tried to. It looked like an overcast evening but the walls were still visible and they were still inside. The magic here was strong and sustained. He carefully tested the floor in front of him with the edge of his staff. It sank into the snow, but held, and he took a step forward.

Without being able to see the opposite side of the room, it was impossible to say how long they would be in this snowy wasteland. The slippery ice beneath the snow made it difficult to move at a faster pace. Discussion was put on hold as they trudged through the room, shivering and panting, white puffs of breath escaping their lips. They'd gone perhaps three or four hundred feet when Anders's staff plunged through the snow and the floor dropped out in front of them.

"Hold! We've run out of floor."

They glanced down into a yawning chasm, a drop so deep they couldn't see the bottom. The snow fell away and revealed the other side, some twelve or fifteen feet away.

"And not a platform in sight," Hawke noted. He looked around but saw no switch either, not even a suspicious looking tree or rock. "Could we jump that?"

"I could," Fenris said, eyeing the distance. "As the wolf."

"That's great. And for the rest of us?" Hawke asked.

"Perhaps I could carry you across one at a time. The extra weight may make it difficult, but I believe I could."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Don't start sounding so sure of yourself now. You'll make me think you can actually do it!"

"And you've a better plan?" Fenris asked, scowling.

Anders, however, was clearing the snow, leaving a long icy path.

"Plan?" Dorian asked, alerting Hawke and Fenris to what Anders was doing.

"Lake Calenhad froze over in the winters," Anders explained. "But not all of it. The ice went from the shore out about twenty feet before it stopped."

"Go on," Hawke said, moving aside so Anders could finish clearing the snow.

"You can't really run on the ice. Not enough traction. But if you use a haste spell at the right moment, you can increase your glide to give yourself an extra boost over."

"Wait, are you saying you dove into an icy lake?" Dorian asked.

"Anything to get away from the Circle," Anders said with a shrug.

"Maker, they must have been that terrible."

Anders looked at him quite seriously. "They were. Well. Since it's my plan I'll go first, I suppose."

Hawke, however, did not like this idea. "What if it goes wrong?"

"We can't stay here, love," Anders said, giving him a quick, placating kiss. "Stand back. Trust me."

"Pick better potential last words," Hawke grumbled.

Anders smiled, cupped the back of Hawke's neck, and pressed their foreheads together. "When we get out of here alive, we'll make love all night long."

Fenris gagged silently and turned away as they kissed, Hawke satisfied with the statement. 

Dorian grinned. "It's incentive for you," he said to Hawke, "not to mess this up."

Anders took a breath and ran across the snow, casting a haste spell as he hit the ice. He slid astonishingly fast over the slick surface and leapt at the last possible second, clearing the chasm and landing safely in the soft snow on the other side.

Hawke let out a relieved breath then looked at Dorian. "I bet I leap farther than you."

"Oh? I'll take that bet. A sovereign?"

"Just money?" Hawke scoffed. "Raise the stakes. When I win, you have to be my servant for a week."

"What a pedestrian bet," Dorian noted. "All right. However, once I show you up, you'll have to do something for me."

"Be your servant?" Hawke scoffed. "Peel you grapes and fan you with a palm frond?"

Dorian leered. "No. I want you to tell me – and Anders," he added mischievously, "the no pants story."

Hawke paled. "That's not fair."

"You renege on the deal?"

Hawke chewed on his lip thoughtfully, looking from Dorian to Fenris, who rolled his eyes. "Alright. Deal." They shook hands. "Fenris, you go before us and measure where we land," he said. "Go on."

"Hang on," Dorian said, and pulled Fenris close to kiss him softly. "For luck."

"Or because you hate being outdone by Hawke," Fenris muttered. He transformed into the wolf and, aided by his claws and Hawke's haste spell, leapt the chasm with ease.

"You first," Hawke said, stepping back for Dorian.

Dorian tutted and readied himself. The spell was executed perfectly and he hit the other side, tucking into an elegant roll across the snow.

"Counts only where you landed!" Hawke demanded. "Fenris, mark that."

"Just pay attention to what you're doing!" Fenris ordered him.

Hawke, determined to do better, got a longer running start than any of them, pushing mana into the haste spell as he hit the ice. His boot slipped and he went sprawling across the ground, sliding at an alarmingly fast rate. Anders cried out as he soared off the ledge horizontally with triple the speed as the others. The ground came up fast and he landed head-first in the snow, heart pounding. He was stuck, but thankfully not dead, having cleared the gap. Fenris and Anders pulled him out, Dorian laughing uproariously.

"You stupid, stupid-"

"You are such an idiot-"

Snow in his beard, being berated by his lover and best friend, laughed at by his arch-nemesis, Hawke scowled. "Shut up!" He brushed the snow away and looked at Anders, pouting a little, hoping to earn some sympathy. Anders merely shook his head, looking angry.

"It seems," Fenris said once he was finished insulting Hawke, "that you have beaten Dorian's mark by several inches."

"What?" Dorian exclaimed. "That can't be true."

Hawke raised both arms in the air, whooping victoriously. "Haha! You have to be my servant for a week!"

Dorian groaned but relented with a slight nod.

"Shame," Anders said, upset but relieved that Hawke was all right. "I really wanted to hear the story."

Still celebrating his win, Hawke led the others to the next room.


	26. White Rabbit: Act 2

The first few rooms appeared to be a mere warmup for what RTD's castle held in store for them. They jumped over moving platforms, nearly fell from ledges that disappeared, and avoided bursts of flames and jets of icy cold water. One room contained a floor of spikes with a net that hung long enough to reach either side. Hawke was about to climb it before Anders pointed out it would be easier to carefully climb down into the spikes and navigate their way through the stalagmite-like room and pull themselves up at the end. It did seem to save a lot of time.

"This is odd," Dorian commented as they stepped into the thirtieth or fortieth room. "Nothing?"

It was completely empty, just a white marble room containing only the door through which they stepped.

"Do you think we took a wrong turn at the greased up pillars that we shimmied over?" Hawke asked. "Maybe there was another way."

"There wasn't," Fenris muttered and stepped forward carefully.

The room dropped into pitch blackness. Immediately Dorian's hand found Fenris's arm, Hawke reaching likewise for Anders to make sure they stuck together. A bright spotlight cut on suddenly, blinding them all, and a voice echoed through the room.

"How nice of you to join me. You've come so far and now… you shall be rewarded."

The spotlight moved across the floor, running up the wall, revealing a set of doors that had only just appeared. Heavy and thick, blood red and rather ominous looking, they clicked open then swung wide. Hawke took a breath and led the way, pulling Anders closely behind him. Passing through the doors they found themselves in the balcony section of a very large theatre. The seats were made of black leather, a gilded handrail leading down the center aisle. They carefully descended the steps of the balcony, peering over the edge of the rail. The mezzanine jutted out underneath them, the same black leather seats lined in neat rows.

"Approach if you dare!" boomed the same voice.

The spotlight zipped down the rows of seats, halting suddenly on the red curtain that concealed the stage. Hawke exchanged looks with the others. They were all thinking the same thing, all anticipating the final confrontation. It was too long in coming and finally, _finally_ they would see it ended. Aided by a whisper of magic, Hawke scaled the railing, dropped to the mezzanine, then to the house floor, the other three following with the same care. He released Fenris's sword from his staff and all four of them were armed, prepared and ready for this.

"Welcome, welcome," the voice said with a deep and oily caress that caused Hawke to shudder. "To the main attraction!"

The curtain lifted, a blast of fanfare ringing through the otherwise empty theatre. Three more spotlights kicked on at once, one from both sides of the house and one directly above, highlighting their host in a wash of bright white. Standing tall with arms outstretched, he wore obsidian robes trimmed in gold with a ridiculously long blood-red cape that dragged the floor like the train of a bride's wedding gown. His jet black hair was pulled back into a tight tail, his goatee neat and trimmed and he looked as if he was expecting uproarious applause.

"...Livius?" Dorian asked, sounding confused.

Hawke, whose expression was dubious, glanced back at Dorian. "Old friend?"

Dorian snorted. "Hardly. Livius Erimond. Enchanter from the Circle at Vyrantium."

"I see my reputation precedes me!" Livius boomed, his voice amplified through magical means.

"As an overdramatic diva, perhaps," Dorian quipped. "Where is your master?"

Erimond scowled, finally dropping his arms. He started to pace, eyes fixed on them. "Master? As if I answer to anyone. You see before you the man who is running the show. The puppeteer pulling the strings! I have no master. I am my own master! I have found the secrets of the most dangerous, the most ancient magicks and unlocked them all. It is I who orchestrated all that you experienced to get here, I who performed experiments in order to discover this power."

"...Right," Hawke said, leaning on his staff now. "So what you're telling us is that you're RTD."

Fenris shook his head in disbelief while Anders crossed his arms. Dorian, who knew Erimond the best and was well aware of his reputation as a status-mongering fool, laughed outright.

"I have always hated that nickname." The scowl did not leave Erimond's face as he spoke. "Very well. A little demonstration, then you will bow before me."

The room grew colder in an instant and they immediately fell into a familiar fighting formation, backs toward one another.

"Dorian?" Hawke asked.

"Erimond never managed to achieve a rank above Enchanter. Might use a bit of blood magic, demon summoning. Not more than what we're used to and prepared for," Dorian reported.

"He seems to have been telling the truth about the corpses at least," Fenris said. "Undead approaching."

Sickly brown and grey patches of skin clung to the bones of the corpses that pulled themselves from between the leather seats. A handful at first quickly turned into a dozen, then two. Hawke struck first, electric wires wrapping around the bodies, flesh and bone sizzling, filling the theatre with a putrid stench. Behind them they heard Erimond laughing.

"I have tracked your progress. Read the reports from Servis. So many of my experiments simply broke. They couldn't hold up to my testing. But I think I've found the ultimate specimens in you four."

"They just keep coming!" Anders shouted, flinging bolts of energy at the nearest corpses. "There's no end to them!"

Fenris swung his sword widely, lopping the heads from three at once. The bodies shuddered and fell to the floor, immobile. "Just be glad they do not move very fast."

"This way!" Hawke ordered, maneuvering around a row of chairs, around the orchestra pit to an exit door.

"Running away already?" Erimond taunted.

"Just getting a better view of the talent!" Hawke shouted, blasting the door open. He waved the other three through then let loose a jet of energy, shaking the theatre walls, collapsing the doorway in order to barricade their exit. "Hopefully that holds them while we deal with Mr. Delusions of Grandeur."

"Are you sure he won't pull any surprises?" Fenris asked Dorian as they navigated the hallways backstage.

"Erimond's idea of a surprise is hiding in the dark and shouting, 'Surprise!' when the lights come on. He's unoriginal, unintuitive, and extremely dull. Someone else must be behind this and he's simply taking the credit."

"Here we go." Hawke pushed through a door with a "Stage Door" sign on it, the others following.

Erimond smirked when they stepped onto the stage, and bowed low. "While it's rude to step on the leading actor's role, I suppose I can forgive you for wanting to share the glory. Very well," he said, clacking his staff to the ground. "I will ask this once. Come along with me willingly. Submit to my whim, and I promise you I'll make it as painless as possible. You'll have untold powers. I can even make you immortal."

"You must be joking." Hawke looked at the others. "He's joking, right?"

The smirk disappeared. "Very well." Erimond cleared his throat and spread his arms wide once more. "Since I am sporting, you get one free shot. Best make it a good one, because after there will be no mercy."

"Oh like that's not an obvious trap," Anders said in disbelief.

"One shot. Best hurry. I grow weary of this."

Before the mages could debate on which spell to use, or whether or not Erimond was telling the truth, Fenris flashed forward, markings flaring adding speed and power to his sword thrust. He lunged with the two-handed greatsword, the blade sinking through Erimond's chest and out the other side. Gasping, wide-eyed in shock, Fenris stumbled back. There was no blood but the sword stuck out through Erimond's body. It was no trick of the light, no illusion. Erimond was flesh and blood with a wound that should have killed him.

"Still a little painful," Erimond wheezed. He grabbed the sword and yanked, pulling it from his chest before tossing it on the stage with a clatter. The gaping wound closed and he grinned mirthlessly as they stared at him. "Now I believe it is my turn."


	27. White Rabbit: Act 3

The stage soon became a flurry of magical energy. Fenris transformed, his sword lay useless where Erimond threw it. He leapt at the magister, intent on tearing out his throat and collided with a solid wall when Erimond appeared to blink out of existence for a split second. He shook himself off and leapt again, biting down hard on the first thing he could – an arm raised to block his attack. He tasted flesh and blood but missed it flowing over his jaws, filling his mouth as it would normally. The wound healed instantly and one strong blast of magic sent Fenris flying back.

A white-hot jet of fire encased in a swirl of blue-black electricity surged toward Erimond, catching him in the stomach. He was thrown off his feet by the combined spells of Hawke and Dorian, and a glyph from Anders kept him down. Fenris pounced again, jaws closing over Erimond's neck this time. What should have been a killing blow merely seemed to irritate him.

"Get off me, you flea-ridden mongrel!"

And with another burst of magic, Fenris found himself flung away again.

Erimond, looking ruffled but unharmed staggered to his feet. "Amateurs!" He tossed off his cape which carried evidence of the spells that should have burned and electrocuted him, the smoking fabric fluttering to the stage floor. He twisted his hands together, a glass-like orb appearing between them.

"What in the Maker's name-" Hawke started as a similar glass orb sprang up from thin air, surrounding all four of them. He pressed on it, then swung his staff, intent on breaking it, but it was no use.

"We appear to be running out of room. Fast," Dorian noted, hands flat against the glass. A burst of magic caused the glass to shimmer but it remained otherwise unharmed.

Anders filled both palms with magical energy and pressed them against the surface. "No good. It's not reacting to any of my magic, either."

Fenris transformed back, feet up and pushing against the orb that grew smaller and smaller with each passing second. "Hawke."

"Yeah, I know!" Hawke snapped. "Try phasing through it!"

Fenris got to his feet, markings lighting up as he phased into his ghost-like form. He reached forward, anticipating his fist moving through the glass, but his gauntlets merely clanked against it. "No good." The markings deactivated and he became solid once more.

"As amusing as it is to watch you like monkeys in a cage, I think you ought to simply accept the inevitable. If any of you survive this, I'll reward you by choosing you for my next great experiment." Erimond began pacing, gesturing widely to the corpse-filled theatre as if he was giving a monologue for some great play as he explained what he had in store for them.

"Anders, are you all right?" Hawke asked. He stopped paying attention Erimond's speech when Anders dropped to his knees. "We'll get out of this. Don't worry-"

"I am not worried," Anders said, though his voice echoed with another, deeper timbre. Cracks appeared in his skin, one eye bright blue as he looked at Hawke. He blinked, and both eyes changed. He was still Anders in so many ways, but Justice was in charge now. " **Stand back**."

Erimond, who was still pontificating, didn't realize what happened until Justice slipped through the glass. He must not have been prepared for a spirit abomination, surprised expression on his face when he turned around finally. Justice delivered one sharp, true punch to the magister's jaw, dropping him like a sack of bricks. The orb between Erimond's hands flew through the air and shattered. Its larger mirror fell to pieces, allowing its captives to break free. Weapons gathered, Hawke led the tactical retreat through the stage door which they'd originally come, Erimond shouting angrily behind them.

"What's your plan, Hawke?" Fenris demanded as they raced through the halls of the fortress.

Doors opened as they approached, stairways appeared out of nowhere. None of them knew where they were going, only that they needed a safe place to regroup before Erimond caught up with them. The path eventually took them to a large dining room. They piled furniture against the door, though what good that would do in a house that appeared to be able to change at whim, they weren't sure.

"Not dying is a start," Hawke panted.

"Perfect plan. Why didn't I think of that one?" Dorian slumped to the floor, running his fingers through his hair. "Solas said he was _effectively_ immortal. There has to be a way to kill him."

"Or he was lying," Fenris suggested.

"He wasn't exactly forthcoming with everything," Anders agreed. "Still, Erimond can be hurt. Justice found a way. He's not completely untouchable. We can at least knock him down."

"He gets up again," Hawke noted. "So what – tie him down? Lock him up somehow? Anyone got a pair of handcuffs?" He looked at Dorian.

Dorian stared at him. "Must've left them in my other robes," he said airily.

"Figures."

"I will help you for a price."

They whirled at the new voice in the room, Dorian springing to his feet.

"Servis!" Hawke scowled. "What, no more bears to throw at us?"

Servis stood on the other side of the table, hands raised. "Like yourselves, I had no idea as to the identity of the supposed man running the show. Hear me out, I beg of you."

Hawke glared but lowered his staff. "You have thirty seconds."

"When Erimond revealed himself to me mere hours ago I thought it was all a joke. Then I realized his power. While you played around in Erimond's funhouse, I was searching for the source of it. I found it."

"And why would you help us?" Hawke was suspicious. "This could just be a ploy."

"I have no love for Erimond. In fact, I despise the man."

"Who doesn't?" Dorian muttered.

"Exactly," Servis said. "I only wish to get out of this alive and… unchanged. Erimond's insane. He's had me collecting artifacts from all over, trying to build a magical army worthy of himself. Over the last several weeks I noticed many of my associates had gone missing. I found them." There was a sour note to his tone. "Twisted horrors of the men they used to be, remnants of their former selves. Experiments of RTD. Not all of them were as fortunate as you friend Felix or so I'm told."

"You were doing so well," Dorian ground out, fists clenched.

Fenris took him by the arm and held tight.

"My apologies. I've no wish to join my associates. So I searched and I found the source of Erimond's power. The reason he's immortal."

A voice filtered into the room. "Oh booooys," Erimond called in a sing-song tone. "Where are yoooou?"

"What do you want in return?" Hawke asked, lowering his voice.

"A full pardon. You make no mention of my involvement, no warrants, no prosecution. I am free to go about my regular day-to-day business and you four are allowed your continued existence."

Hawke glanced back to the other three.

"As much as I hate to agree to this," Dorian began, "it's likely the quickest way. He'd be bargaining with favors if he had nothing else. This, I find, is preferable."

"Agreed," Fenris said.

Anders nodded. "It's not ideal, Hawke, but we're running out of time."

"Deal," Hawke said, looking back to Servis.

Servis stepped into the cold fireplace which was tall enough for a darkspawn ogre to stand in fully upright and pressed a stone. The back of the fireplace slid away with a low grinding sound. "Through here, down the stairs you'll find the basement. You'll find a large life-sized portrait in which Erimond has poured his life's blood. The essence of what keeps him alive. Destroy the portrait then you can kill him."

"If you're lying..." Hawke began.

"Then I consider my life forfeit," Servis said, stepping back as they approached. "I quite enjoy living. I daresay it's my favorite activity. Do we have a deal?" He held out his hand.

Hawke grudgingly shook it. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here. I wish you luck. All of you." He frowned. "You'll need it," he added, then left quickly through a side door.

"Let's hope he was telling the truth." Hawke lit the tip of his staff, illuminating a spiral staircase in the dark, and began the descent.


	28. The Importance of Being Erimond: Act 1

A light breeze fluttered in through the open veranda doors, scattering late autumn leaves across the marble floor. Erimond sighed, trying not to move too much. Despite the crisp morning air, he felt stifled in the silk doublet and fancy ruffled shirt. The collar was stiff and high, the pants tight and constricting. He was fairly sure his boots were a size too small, but at least the cape was fashionable. Still, he wouldn't complain. The portrait was commissioned from the best artist in Thedas, an Orlesian by the name of Basilic de Salle-Quartier. He was a tall, thin man with an even thinner moustache and quite a thick accent. Erimond soon realized how he delighted in giving instructions in the Orlesian tongue, only to become frustrated when Erimond didn't understand him. Still, it was necessary. Every Erimond before him who attained their seat in the Magisterium had their portrait painted and hung in the grand hall of the estate.

Basilic tutted loudly. "Raise your chin!"

"When can we take a break? My back is absolutely killing me."

"Art is pain, mon ami!"

"For the artist, not the subject."

"Oh and you know all this about art? Should you be behind the easel and then I can have the easy job of simply standing still?"

Erimond scowled. "I'd like to see you try if you think it's that easy, monsieur."

Basilic tutted again, tongue clicking against his teeth. "I charge extra if we run over time."

"Yes, all right," Erimond said. He removed the cape. "Fifteen minutes. I'll have the servants bring you something to drink."

"Bien, bien," Basilic muttered, waving him on. "I shall work on the background. At least flowers do not complain when you paint them."

"Should have stuck to still life." Erimond ignored the angry retort – he didn't understand Orlesian anyway – and left him to it.

-

"And that, esteemed members of the Magisterium, is how I propose to spend the budget surplus this year."

He expected applause. Even a light smattering of claps would have done it. It was his first real proposal for the Magisterium. After a somewhat lackluster month of dull paperwork he was able to finally do something exciting, or so he'd thought. No one seemed overly enthused for his ideas on how to keep the Qunari out. Giant walls were practical and his budget ideas made it affordable. They could hire dwarven builders, use slave labor to move the materials, and they would have most of the northern coast covered in a decade. Instead of being congratulated for his brilliant plan, his speech was met with dead silence. Well, dead silence and some uncomfortable coughing. Then he was ushered off the floor and the next bit of business was brought to consideration.

Later he found himself in the marble dining hall when they took a recess. The senate building always held a fascination for him. He'd attended meetings as a young boy with his father, sat in on some important negotiations in his teenage years, and was expected to uphold the family name when he came into his seat. He debated with other magisters' sons in the Publicanium, but everyone knew where the true power laid. Graduating from being a mere paper pusher with little authority over how things in the Imperium worked, he was excited to make real change now.

"Did you hear all of it, though? Livia would be furious if she saw her grandson's speech. Thank the Maker the woman had the good sense to die in the boy's formative years."

Erimond paused behind a thick, ornately carved pillar. Livia was an extremely popular name and many people had grandmothers who were called such. He was fairly sure he was the only one who fit that criterion who spoke today, however, and remained concealed in order to listen.

A second man joined the first, laughing wryly. "Oh I know. I dozed off a bit as he rambled but did he truly believe his own nonsense? A giant wall. What good would that even do? The impracticality alone. I'm surprised he wasn't laughed off the senate floor."

It was enough. Erimond's stomach turned. He allowed them this victory today, leaving early due to a faked illness and a real embarrassment but he would continue to press on. He would show them what he was capable of.

-

He stared at the portrait. It was finally finished. Basilic took two weeks to finish it, proclaiming it to be his finest masterpiece yet. He took no coin for his work, only seeking permission to come gaze upon it on the occasional times in which he found himself traveling Tevinter. Erimond agreed of course. It _was_ a masterpiece. He stood proudly, staff in hand, cape long and flowing behind him. In his free hand he cradled a book and his gaze was intelligent, stern.

The wine tasted cool and crisp on his tongue as he took another sip. His fourth glass tonight. He wasn't sleeping well. Every bill he proposed to the Magisterium was shot down. He was slowly becoming a laughing stock. His father's death was regrettable they said, not because the man died, but rather because Erimond took his seat as his default heir. The legacy he would leave behind now felt hollow and wrong. But what could he do? He wanted to be more like the man in the painting. The one who held his head high, who ignored the doubters, who got things done for good or ill. He wanted to change, to evolve.

"No," he whispered in the candle-lit hall. He reached up and touched the edge of the portrait. "It is they who are wrong. It is they who must change. I know it."

He would change Tevinter. He would crush his opposition. He would become a man his father would be proud of. The world would answer to him. And those who didn't would fear his name. He drained his wine glass then sneered, flinging the glass at the portrait where it shattered.

He would show them.

-

_We regret to inform you that due to your prolonged absence from the Magisterium that your seat has been temporarily filled. Please reply upon receipt of this letter so that we may make arrangements in the case of illness or familial obligation that keeps you from performing your duties as a Magister. Failure to reply will result in eventual permanent replacement to be voted on in six months' time._

_Thank you for your anticipated prompt reply._

Erimond let the letter curl in his palm as he set it ablaze. The paper turned black then into grey ashes which he wiped on the coat of his latest experiment. It had gone wrong, of course. But there would be others. Other slaves, other mages even who were intrigued by the allure of having more power. With enough blood, with the right magic, the right spells, he would command an army. He would control the Magisterium, the world would be his. And those who doubted him?

He looked up at the portrait, the expression he wore the same confident, steely gaze. However, the flowers in the background were slightly blurry now, the corners of his mouth lined, lip twisted into a sneer. His eyes were narrower, the clothing a bit sharper. But it felt better, he recognized himself, his _true_ self and spent only a moment more admiring it.

"You see, Monsieur de Salle-Quartier," Erimond whispered to his latest victim, "you were right." The painter's chest cavity squelched as Erimond drove his fist into it, lighting the inside with magical energy. "I was never any good at standing still."

The corpse began to stir and Erimond laughed. The spell, it seemed, was not a failure after all.


	29. The Importance of Being Erimond: Act 2

The torches lining the basement halls flickered as they passed.

"I'll be glad to be done with this place," Hawke muttered.

Fenris glanced at him. "Glad to see the back of RTD once and for all."

"It has been rather a long road. Just knowing there's an end to it is a relief."

They fell silent, their mutual thoughts settling on the journey that brought them to this point. It seemed so long ago that they were traversing the mountains, looking for any signs of blood magic that could lead them to a hint of RTD. And now here they were in his fortress, mere minutes away from a final confrontation with him. It seemed an appropriate time to become nostalgic even surrounded as they were by the strange stone walls which glowed with a mix of lyrium and blood in the very foundation of the building itself. He couldn't regret any of it, meeting Anders, helping those less fortunate, and even running into Dorian as he seemed to make Fenris happy. As strange as it was to reminisce, he found that he would've done it all again.

The hall opened into a large room with a door opposite. The second they stepped inside, iron bars sprang up, cutting off their exit. Two puffs of smoke – one purple, one black – appeared on either side of the room revealing near-identical beings. They both resembled Erimond. The first had long black hair and carried a brush and mirror, brushing the locks while he hummed. The other wore a crown made of gold and glittering gems sat at a cocky angle atop his head. His cape was even more voluminous than the one the real Erimond wore, and he stood with hands on his hips, chin jutting out.

"Guardians of the portrait?" Hawke guessed. "I'd have gone with more traditional eat-your-face demons than whatever you two are supposed to be."

"Vanity and arrogance," Dorian guessed at once. "Lesser demons of pride. Not nearly as powerful but quite a nuisance."

"You _dare_ disturb our master's most private chamber?" Arrogance asked, cape sweeping across the stones as he paced as Erimond had done in the theatre. "What cheek!"

"How do we get rid of them?" Hawke asked. "Any quicker way than smacking them with fire until they stop moving? Because I can do that."

Dorian cleared his throat. "My friend here was just telling me about his estate. You should hear about the new additions he just put on the top floor." He pulled Hawke to the forefront.

Hawke glanced to Fenris who shrugged, then Anders who looked intrigued. "Thanks for the help," he muttered.

Arrogance fixed his eyes on Hawke. "Not nearly as impressive as my master's."

"What, this shack?" Dorian said, unimpressed. He rolled his eyes. "Hawke's mansion could fit three of these in its main hall. And the accoutrements? Who's your interior decorator? The homeless tramp up the road?"

The demon sputtered, crown tipping precariously. "I'll have you know that Master Erimond himself picked out only best-"

"Oh Erimond himself did the decorating? That explains quite a lot. You see, my friend only chooses from the most expensive, most tasteful art nouveau pieces for his contemporary rooms, and bids on only best antiques for the restored halls. Designers from all over Thedas clamor whenever they hear he's in the market for a new piece. Isn't that right, Hawke?"

"They can't wait to wine and dine me," Hawke agreed, catching on quickly. "In fact I'm so very important that the heads of all the cities in the Free Marches and royalty from across Thedas contact _me_ before they make any major decisions. I'm a real trendsetter." He heard Fenris snort and stomped as subtly as he could on his friend's foot.

Arrogance was beside himself with rage. He shook his fist comically at Hawke. "That's… that's! This will not stand! I will see to it that you end up a second-rate pauper next to me!" With an anguished cry, he disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"That was rather easy," Anders said, impressed. He glanced to the other. "And that one? Do you have act more handsome than he is?"

Dorian shook his head. "Just ignore him. He'll continue primping until he realizes he's out of pomade for his hair. And," he added, slightly offended, "it wouldn't be acting. I _am_ more handsome than he is."

"I see a slight resemblance, you know." Hawke looked from Vanity to Dorian.

Dorian laughed. "What? You think that demon is more vain than I? You simply haven't seen me ready myself for a party that actually matters."

Hawke followed the others across the room, shaking his head and carefully avoiding the demon. They opened the door. A large portrait covered in a white drop cloth sat at the very center of the room. Dorian and Hawke each grabbed an edge and pulled it away to reveal the picture of Livius Erimond. He looked similar to how Erimond did now but with notable differences. The sneer was permanent, the ugliness of his soul reflected in his expression. The background's floral arrangement had rotted, and black ichor filled the cracks in the stone beneath his feet.

"It's always a shame to destroy a decent work of art," Dorian said, filling his palm with flame. "It's a very good thing that this is not one."

He set the canvas on fire, the four of them half-expecting it not to catch. It did, and incredibly fast, leaving behind nothing but a burnt up pile of ash at the foot of a gilded frame. Behind them they heard a howling, a pained and agonized moan and turned to see Erimond standing where Vanity and Arrogance had once been.

"What have you done!?" Erimond's eyes were wide with shock.

"It's over," Hawke said as the four of them left the painting behind. "You can either come quietly or-"

"Die," Fenris growled.

The air shifted, alerting them to Erimond's intent. Fenris transformed into the wolf mid-leap and knocked him down, momentum carrying him across the room. The temperature skyrocketed as Dorian lit a fire mine underneath Erimond, who burst into flames when he tried to get up. A barrier spell protected him but he was caught a second later in a paralysis glyph from Anders. The four of them had worked together too long, knew each other too well for Erimond to outwit them. He tried to fight back, struggling against the glyph.

"You're going to die!" Erimond shouted. "I will have my revenge on you! I will triumph! Thedas will see the power of the ALMIGHTY LIVIUS ERIMOND!!"

"Shut this fool up," Fenris said as he rejoined the others.

"Gladly." Hawke unfurled his electric wires which danced menacingly closer. He whipped the wires around Erimond who gasped in surprise before crying out in pain as they sliced clean through skin and bone. His body toppled over, a mess of blood and gore. Hawke smirked, drawing the wires back. "Well. The portrait wasn't _that_ impressive. There was no need to go to pieces over it."

Anders and Dorian exchanged a look with one another, rolling their eyes. Fenris covered his face with his palm and groaned.

"What?" Hawke asked, carefully stepping around the pile of flesh and bone. "Oh that was a good one, Fenris, you have to admit it. No? Anyone?" He watched them roll their eyes, exchanging disgusted looks as they filed out. "Oh come on!" He sighed, looking at the remains of Erimond. "I thought it was good," he muttered, and followed his friends out of the room.


	30. The Importance of Being Erimond: Act 3

When they gained the outside of the fortress they realized how close they'd been to it when they were sucked in through their dream visions. Their tents were on the grounds of the estate, but the stronghold must have had some powerful cloaking magic that fell along with its master. Hawke was just remarking on how he couldn't believe that it was Erimond of all people, a man who barely appeared to be sane, when a large shadow passed over the lawn. They immediately readied themselves for another attack but relaxed when a phoenix landed in front of them. Felix transformed, grinning.

"Father's getting reports from all over Tevinter," he said by way of greeting. "When RTD fell, apparently his lackeys felt it. Their magic must have been tied in with his. Hunters are contacting us about the lack of undead activity. They're starting to hold proper pyres now."

"How did you know where to find us?" Hawke asked.

"Anonymous tip," Felix said, shrugging. "It gave the coordinates and nothing else. Once we knew RTD was down, Father sent me to retrieve you. Said you would probably need help getting back. But look, barely a scratch on you."

"Don't let that fool you," Anders said. "We're rather exhausted. That place needs to be torn down."

They looked behind them at the fortress. The ground began to shake and rumble and they raced across the lawn away from the stronghold which sank slowly beneath the grass. Dumbfounded they watched as it disappeared, the ground swallowing it up, leaving behind nothing but an iron fence surrounding the property.

"Right," Hawke said. "That's enough mystical bullshit for one day. Shall we get the hell out of here?"

Felix transformed back into his phoenix form and they climbed aboard. Fenris settled himself firmly between Dorian and Hawke, clinging to the latter and ignoring the quiet laughter. The flight was swift and smooth, the landing without incident.

"You're getting better at that!" Dorian clapped Felix on the shoulder, proud.

"Father's insistence that I practice. I have a feeling it's going to come in handy more often than not. Someone has to rescue you hunters after all."

"Our very own ferry service. I like that," Hawke said as they followed Felix into the estate. "Beats walking."

Fenris, however, wasn't so sure. Before he could voice his concerns, Alexius appeared, arms open to embrace them all in turn. Congratulations were given and they soon realized they weren't alone. At least a dozen other hunters including the Iron Bull gathered in Alexius's ballroom. It was a celebration of the end and everyone wanted to hear how they'd done it.

Fenris remained in the background, somewhat pleased as Anders kept him company with a glass of wine for each of them and a small tray of hors d'oeuvres. They watched Hawke and Dorian tell the tale, interrupting each other rather animatedly, and likely playing up their parts.

"Do you think we're lucky or unfortunate?" Anders asked.

"Some days I am not sure myself." But Fenris smiled when Dorian glanced back and winked at him.

"I have to say I wasn't expecting a party. I could do with a bath and a change of clothing. Perhaps a long nap."

"Mm. You aren't the only one."

Anders fell silent a moment, offering the last of the canapes to Fenris. "I was wondering."

"I suppose this involves asking me a question."

"Just the one."

"Go ahead."

"What _is_ the no pants story?"

Fenris choked on the canape, Anders thumping his back, and he chased it with a long sip of wine, ears burning slightly in embarrassment. "Ah. That." He looked at Hawke who was waving his arms. "If you wish to hear the story, I'm afraid Hawke will have to tell it himself."

"I figured." Anders paused, pushing himself away from the wall. "You're a good friend, Fenris. To all of us."

"...As are you, mage."

Anders returned to Hawke's side, dodging a flailing arm, and tucked himself against his lover's side to whisper in his ear. Hawke nodded and he and Dorian made their excuses, Alexius thanking them once again, assuring them that he would speak with them in the morning.

"I pulled myself away from a grand party for you," Dorian said, offering his hand to Fenris as they approached. "I'm missing an opportunity to talk about how marvelous I am so you'll need to make up for that."

Fenris smirked and took his hand, allowing himself to be pulled in close for a kiss. "I think I can manage that," he whispered against Dorian's lips.

"Ugh, gross," Hawke said, only to be silenced by Anders who kissed him firmly. "Mm. Never mind. Carry on. See you in the morning!" he managed, tripping a bit to keep up with Anders who pulled him from the room.

"Well. I'm not one to be outdone," Dorian said. "Shall we?"

And with a promising night ahead, the four heroes retired to their rooms.

-

The papers the next morning boldly proclaimed the story, an interview from an unnamed source giving the details of how a Fereldan apostate-turned-noble, an elven ex-slave from Tevinter, a southern Circle mage healer from Kirkwall, and a magister's son managed to defeat one of the greatest threats Thedas had ever seen. The four sat with Alexius and Felix at breakfast, Dorian loudly reading choice bits of the article between sips from a new flask. It, along with brand new robes and boots, was a present from Alexius. To Anders, Alexius gifted a new set of potions-making materials and instruments, a large donation to his clinic and an encyclopedic set on Tevinter healing arts. Anders tried to reject the gift, stumbling over his thanks while Alexius insisted. To Fenris he had commissioned a new set of armor threaded with lyrium and a silverite sword with a leather handle grip that contained runes that would transform with him. Fenris thanked him, feeling rather overwhelmed by the opulence of the new things, impressed that he was able to get the magic to work with his transformation, and pleased that Alexius never seemed to treat him differently because he was an elf.

Hawke watched the others receive their gifts, quietly disappointed when Alexius handed him nothing. He figured the repaired runestone was enough.

"Are you going to speak to your father while you're in the country?" Alexius asked Dorian as breakfast was ending.

"I don't think I will. At least not yet. I believe I'll continue to travel a bit. Help out where I can. Oh," he added, "and I would miss Fenris terribly if we were to part ways so soon."

Fenris felt the heat rise in his cheeks as Alexius glanced from Dorian to himself. "Good," he muttered, pleased when Dorian took his hand.

Alexius shook his head but smiled.

"What about you?" Hawke asked Anders.

"Me?" Anders asked, pausing with his coffee mug halfway to his lips.

"Going back to the clinic?"

"Well I think I should. At least for a few days."

"Ah."

Fenris scowled and kicked Hawke under the table.

"Ow!" Hawke glared at him, then sighed. "I meant are you staying with me?"

Anders smirked. "Hawke, of course I am. Even if I didn't love you, you need a decent healer for whatever comes next."

"Now that's settled," Dorian said, standing. He dragged Fenris to his feet. "We should all go for a bit of shopping so our adoring public can express their gratitude in the way of extravagant discounts."

Alexius waved him on. "Oh, Garrett, just a moment before you go. He'll be along in a minute," he assured the others. When they were alone, he retrieved a weathered looking leather journal from a drawer in the sideboard. "You retired early last night. I wanted to give this to you then."

Hawke took it, releasing the ties. It was clearly old, stuffed with papers, the pages full of writing and lumpy in some places where the odd coin or pebble or pressed flower was stuck inside. "What's this?"

"A journal your father kept. I'm to understand that there are letters in there, correspondence between him and other hunters. Notes on his journeys. It arrived shortly after you left along with a note from a Kirkwall Circle mage called Tobrius. Apparently your father's friend, a templar, passed on and he wanted you to have this."

"My father was friends with a templar?"

"In our line of work, my boy, you make friends with all sorts."

That much was true, Hawke realized. He flipped through the journal, emotions welling in his chest, creeping up to stick in his throat. He swallowed hard, looking at his father's words. A letter at the front was addressed to his father in his mother's handwriting. A love letter. Memories. And they were all here. "But why didn't he send this to my estate?" he asked, looking up at Alexius.

Alexius pursed his lips and gave a slight shrug. "I suppose he knew how close your father and I were over the years. Perhaps he thought it would find you sooner this way. I suppose we'll never know the full story." He clapped Hawke on the shoulder. "Go on then. Enjoy your afternoon."

"Thank you. For everything," Hawke said, standing. He tied the journal closed and tucked it carefully in his breast pocket before shaking Alexius's hand, then left to join the others in the front hall.

"Ready?" Anders asked when he saw Hawke approach.

"A day of shopping? Sounds boring," Hawke said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "But I suppose it could be worse."

"It could be a giant man-eating worm that breathes fire," Dorian provided.

"A three-headed hydra," Fenris added.

"An insane cult of Andrastians who enjoy human sacrifices," Anders said, kissing Hawke's cheek.

"Maker, I'd almost take all those again over the shopping." Hawke sighed.

"Boys," Alexius called, ducking into the hall. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to cut your holiday short."

Hawke looked at him expectantly. "What is it?"

"I just received an urgent message about a fifty foot lizard approaching Antiva City. Apparently it popped up out of Rialto Bay and it seems dead set on crushing everything in its path. Are you up for it?"

Hawke glanced back to the others. Dorian sighed but waved in a 'go on' gesture. Fenris's grin was almost feral. Anders laughed lightly and nodded.

"Alexius," Hawke said, "don't worry. We're equipped to handle monsters of this _scale_."

"No," Fenris said immediately, Anders and Dorian quick to agree.

Hawke pouted as they went to pack. "That was a good pun!"

"No," Fenris assured him, "it wasn't."

"Is he going to be like this the entire trip?" Dorian asked as they separated to their respective rooms.

"Don't make that face," Anders said as he and Hawke stepped into their room. They started to gather their things. "There will be plenty of opportunities to make horrible jokes along the way."

"And you'll love me no matter what?"

Anders sighed and kissed him sweetly. "Yes, Hawke. No matter what."

Pleased with the promise and the prospect of continuing his father's legacy, Hawke packed for the journey ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. The end of another one. Thank you guys for reading, for all your comments and kudos. It's been a lot of fun to write this one. Certainly was a journey from start to finish.
> 
> If you've been keeping up with my profile you know I'm switching gears to original fiction at the beginning of the year so writing fic will slow down significantly. I have one more thing I want to try to finish up before the end of the year but I wouldn't expect too much from me anytime soon.
> 
> You've all been so wonderful and while I'm not leaving fandom, I'll probably be a bit more withdrawn here. You can catch me on twitter @TCRegan5 (DMs are open) or email if you want to chat one-on-one at tcregan@gmail.com I also have anon asks open at ask.fm/TCRegan but please be nice. I've already had to deal with too many anon jackasses and I would like to leave this link open for as long as possible.
> 
> Take care, everyone. Happy Holidays and stay safe!
> 
> -
> 
> ETA: Some lovely fanart by: <http://seasaltsunset.tumblr.com/>
> 
>   
> Fenris in his wolf costume.


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